Smooth Sailing (With A Chance Of Definite Passion)
by sandra70
Summary: picks up right at the end of season 3... and tries to answer the question "Where is the relationship going?" (without obstacles like Elsa and Marian; but others might appear) The rating has officially changed to an "M" now...
1. They'd Be Crazy Not To

This is my first attempt at a story for _**Once Upon A Time** _- it picks up right at the end of season 3. But as it's my main goal to show the development of the relationship between Emma and Hook, I left out a few details of the finale... in this version, they haven't brought back neither Marian nor Elsa. There might be some other bumps on the way in future chapters... I hope you enjoy!

The characters, of course, are not mine and belong entirely to their fabulous creators, Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis. I'm just borrowing them.

_**Chapter 1:**_

_**They'd Be Crazy Not To**_

They'd both completely lost track of time, lost in themselves and their newfound closeness there in the cold of Granny's outdoor patio. They were so enveloped in their own little microcosm that neither of them felt anything except an all-encompassing warmth glowing inside which seemed to heat up the chilly air. Emma had gradually moved in to Hook so closely that she was almost sitting on his lap; he still cradled her head in his hand while her fingers were entangled in his hair at the nape of his neck. They softly swayed back and forth like reeds in the wind while kissing, breaking apart again, caressing each other's face, running gentle fingertips over scruffy jaws, silky cheeks and smiling lips... smiling – happy, unbelieving smiles – and kissing again. Not a single word had been uttered since his plain and simple, yet so mind-blowing, _"Aye."_

Only a few moments had passed since Emma moved in for that kiss and Hook – after a few seconds of disbelief – had raised his hand to her head and kissed her back, very slowly and carefully at first, then stopping midway like he wanted to make sure that she really, _really_ was accepting this. _Embracing_ it. Or maybe it had been minutes? Hell, as for them, it could have been hours. Nothing, nobody seemed to matter or even exist anymore but them.

In reality, not more than ten minutes had passed since Emma had left the diner to sit down opposite the man she'd been so painfully missing while celebrating inside with the rest of her family. _You don't have a home until you just miss it..._ and suddenly she'd realized that being there with all of her family and friends surrounding her, yet having _him_ nowhere in sight made her feel like a part of her was missing. And for a crazy, dreadful moment she'd feared that he had just gone, left for good this time, tired of chasing… of waiting.

Words could not express the relief she'd felt when a panicky, searching look outside the window revealed Hook's lonesome figure sitting out there on the deserted porch, his fingers playing with his ever-present rum flask on the small round table in front of him, his breath forming little clouds in the chilly air, and his gaze lost somewhere, nowhere. Absurdly enough, despite their successful adventure and their victory over fate and time, he looked like he was thoroughly defeated. Emma had never seen a lonelier man in her life. Her heart had clenched almost painfully, and she'd headed straight for the door, finally letting herself be guided only by her feelings; completely unaware and uncaring of the attentive, curious looks which follower her out of the diner.

All that had mattered in that moment was making him understand that nothing of all this – her, finally accepting where she belonged, where her home was, _who_ she was – would have been possible without him. Maybe he knew that already, but she had to make him understand that now _she_ knew it, too. Yes, Henry had brought her home two years ago, but Hook had been the one to finally make her realize _just that_. Home. In a way, _he__'d_ brought her home, too – _twice_ now. Moreover, he'd helped her defend and save that home countless times, and somewhere along the way he'd become part of that home, too.

Despite Emma's conviction, she'd hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaving the safe harbor of the restaurant and the friends surrounding her. With her hand already on the door handle, cold fingers of doubt seemed to grab a hold of her heart, and she'd thrown another cursory glance at Hook sitting out there alone, a nervous one this time. He'd looked lonely and defeated, yes – but suddenly she hadn't been quite so sure of how he would react to her approach. Granted, he hadn't left, but what if he had indeed grown tired of the chase? Of waiting and hoping for her to change her mind? His words from long ago had reverberated in her head, his voice low and husky and with a touch of cynicism: _"... just as I am done... with you." _That had been his reaction to her very first display of mistrust towards him when she'd left him in shackles on that beanstalk; the first time she'd willfully disregarded her own instincts. She hadn't _dared_ trust him back then and had done little since to show him how much that had changed.

Sure, Hook was a different man now, too – a man who _still_ knew her better than herself and understood her ever-present fear of being deserted – but when she'd told him in Rumple's vault that she truly wanted to stop running, and that she'd finally understood what it was she'd been seeking all along without so much as _mentioning _him in the process, not even giving him an inkling of hope that he could be a part of that home, too... had that been one blow too many? Was he _done_ now? If she opened up to him now – would he respectfully decline and walk away? Emma knew that would destroy a part of her forever, and for a moment, her fear of rejection had almost gotten the better of her. She'd even loosened her grip on the door handle a little before her mother's voice had flashed through her mind: _"Well, there's only one way to find out..."_

So she'd straightened her back, drawn a deep breath and gone out there, completely clueless about what she was going to say to him, but determined to do her best. Each footstep had been weighted by her nerves, but she'd finally done it… crossed a bridge of her own making that led directly into his arms.

She never wanted to be away from home, from _him_ again – and now he knew it.

When they heard someone clearing his throat out of nowhere, it took Emma and Hook a few seconds to come back to earth again. Their lips parted reluctantly, and for a second their stares seemed so interwoven with each other that they weren't able to look anywhere else. But when the little noise was repeated with some urgency, both turned their heads towards the sound. Hook sobered within the blink of an eye when he saw David standing there, not far away from the table where they were seated. _Oh bloody hell. _He froze like a statue under David's stony gaze.

Emma blushed and let her right hand drop slowly from Hook's face, though she didn't really back away from him. Her father would have to deal with it sooner or later anyway. The silence was a little awkward, but before it could get really uncomfortable David broke it, motioning vaguely towards the couple.

"Can we have a word?" he asked.

Hook was quick to get up from his seat, not before somewhat guiltily, unconsciously running his thumb over his mouth. "Ah, I'll just..."

Much to his and Emma's surprise though, David raised his hand as if to stop him. "No, I meant..." – he nodded towards the man in black – "...with _you_."

Hook froze in mid-movement – completely taken aback – and raised his eyebrows, his eyes darting to Emma. She returned his anxious, slightly annoyed look with a confused pursing of her lips. Then she looked quickly at David, trying to read her father's expression, and although he wasn't smiling, she knew him well enough to already detect the smile in the corners of his eyes. It surprised her a bit and pleased her immensely at the same time. She still didn't know what he wanted from Hook right now, but she knew he wouldn't knock him out flat. Relieved, Emma turned her eyes to her man again, a very slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She shrugged and rose slowly from her seat.

David was still looking questioningly at Hook until the pirate finally found his voice again, even if it sounded somehow a little defeated. "Ah... why, of course, mate." He forced a little unhappy smile and slumped down on the chair again.

Before walking away from him, Emma lightly touched her hand to his shoulder and, giving him an encouraging little smile, bent down to him and whispered in his ear: "Keep smiling, buddy..."

Then she turned around and walked towards the diner. Hook rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "Wonderful," he grumbled to himself.

When Emma walked past David she threw him a sheepish little smile and slightly tilted her head as if wanting to ask him to... she didn't even know _what_, but she guessed it was just what _any_ daughter would've asked from her father when he wanted to _"have a word"_ with her _boyfriend_, as Regina had called Hook what seemed ages ago. Emma made a mental note never to underestimate Regina's intuition again. David's eyes smiled at her, invisible for Hook though, and he nudged her arm with his elbow and bent his head a little down to her.

"Don't worry," he muttered dryly under his breath, "I'm still a married man."

Emma grinned to herself and made her way into the diner, leaving her pirate to stir in his own juices for a few moments longer.

Hook scratched nervously behind his ear while David slowly approached the small round table and took the seat which had been occupied by Emma just a minute ago, without waiting for a further invite. Hook knew that sooner or later the moment would come when he had to deal with Emma's parents; but really, was it asking too much to revel in his newfound happiness a little longer than ten bloody minutes before having to face the judgment of a jealous, overprotective father? He sighed inwardly and braced himself for a tirade of some sort; after all, he hadn't forgotten the prince's _"You won't get my daughter, I'll see to that"_ and all the other displays of disapproval and mistrust. Surely, David had obviously started to trust him a little more lately, maybe even respect him or, at the very least, acknowledge his efforts to protect Emma. Hadn't he?

Hook hadn't forgotten how the prince had insisted Hook go with his daughter to face the bloody Wicked Witch, even when Emma hadn't wanted to take him. He hadn't shown it much, of course not, but David's curt _"Zelena backed you into a corner, you did the best you could"_ had meant a lot to him. But of course nothing of that was a guarantee that the prince approved of his daughter – the _princess_ – dallying, let alone being amorously involved with someone like him: an outlaw, a varlet, a rapscallion... maybe something like a hero now – although that had never been his aim – but, after all, still _nothing but a pirate_.

Only now Hook noticed that the other man had been carrying two glasses of beer in his hand. He put one on the table in front of Hook and raised his own in an inviting gesture. Hook wasn't sure what to make of it, but he took the offered glass, raised it and nodded, and both men drank. When they put down the glasses almost simultaneously, David finally spoke. "Quite the day, huh?" he asked almost casually and added, "Or for you even more than one day, I assume?"

Hook was astounded and a little thrown off track that David didn't even address what he'd just witnessed. A little confused, he did what he was best at and tried to play it smooth. "Aye, that it was..."

David cleared his throat. "I want to apologize to you, Hook."

Now, that had been completely unexpected! Hook raised his eyebrows, and underneath them his blue eyes widened in surprise and darted to the prince without his head moving. "Apologize, mate?"

Emma's father nodded. "Maybe I made it a little..." David shrugged "...too hard for you at times." He looked firmly at Hook. "I should have trusted you more... and sooner."

_That_ was even more unexpected. Hook had always respected, even admired to a certain extent, the other man's fierce determination to do everything to fight for his family _and_ to always do the _honorable_ thing; but sometimes he'd felt a tad of self-righteousness shine through, or so it had seemed to him. But here was a man not too proud to admit a mistake and even apologizing for it. That was anything but self-righteous... it was a sign of true grandness.

With a tilt of his head, Hook raised his eyebrows and looked down at his glass. "Well, I admit I might not have always been the shining epitome of honor and trustworthiness that I am now." David turned his eyes down at the table and suppressed a grin at the obvious irony, and Hook waved his hand apologetically. "And sadly, I also have to admit I sided with various villains on a few occasions..." Only the way his fingers thrummed restlessly on his glass betrayed his slight discomfort.

David nodded earnestly and looked him directly in the eyes. "That you did," he agreed. "But I understand that vengeance can be a strong motivator." He shook his head thoughtfully. "I never was the type for that, but by God, if anyone ever killed someone I love..." He saw Hook's eyes darken which gave him a reminder of how dangerous he could actually be and went on quickly: "Anyway, you let go of that when you turned around to offer your ship and your services." For a moment he was distracted and frowned. "Where is your ship, by the way? Still in New York?"

Hook's jaw tightened. "The Jolly Roger is gone."

"Gone?" David echoed, his voice clueless. "How?"

"Ah..." Hook hadn't been prepared for so much heart-to-heart talk. He rubbed his index finger over the scruff on his chin and replied lightly, "That's a story for another time."

David threw him a sly glance. "Maybe by the next campfire we share... _Prince Charles?_" Hook raised his eyebrows in question, and David added with a grin, "Emma told us everything about your big adventure." Hook grinned back a little sheepishly and scratched behind his ear again, for a moment not sure what to say. He just hoped that Emma's father would understand their little charade had been necessary and had not meant to be sneaky in any way. But David went on with a determined nod: "And I never got to give you credit and thank you for what you've done."

More surprises? "Done?" Hook repeated.

David nodded. "If it wasn't for you, my daughter wouldn't be here." He didn't specify, but thought to himself about the various places Hook had brought her back from and the occasions he had saved her: New York, Neverland, the Enchanted Forest, Rumplestiltskin's vault by encouraging her to open the time portal again... there were so many of them. "Or myself, for all that matters," he added and shook his head. "And Snow and I would never..."

"You _would_ have," Hook interrupted firmly. "If not on the troll bridge, then elsewhere. Some things are meant to be." For a moment, his gaze drifted off, and he saw Emma's green eyes dancing before his – sparkling, soft and vulnerable and finally so happy, speaking to him, directly to his heart.

David tilted his head with a smile. "Sadly, I have to agree with you again... _mate_."

Hook snorted a little laugh and looked down at the table. "Seems that's becoming a nasty habit..."

For a moment, they just sat there in not exactly uncomfortable silence, then David remarked thoughtfully and with a slightly incredulous shake of his head: "Funny that of all people it was Captain Hook to convince me to wait for the right woman to show up... to believe in True Love." He raised his hands. "No offense."

Hook fidgeted with his flask, still lying useless and untouched on the table. "None taken." He grinned. "I can hardly blame you for saying so, now can I? The old Captain Hook probably wouldn't have." A shadow flew over his scruffy, handsome face when he tilted his head thoughtfully. "He didn't believe in that himself."

David nodded. "I know. I do remember your darkest secret." He looked Hook directly in the eyes, thinking back to the memorable moment in the Echo cave in Neverland when he'd confessed that Emma had opened his heart to love again. Hook shifted a little uncomfortably on his seat as David went on. "And I do remember that prince who would go to the end of the world for his princess... or _time_." Hook licked his lips and grinned uncharacteristically shyly. David leaned a little forward and continued: "Turns out, he actually did. Face it, pirate... you're a hero in more than one sense." He slapped Hook's leather-clad shoulder. "It's about bloody time you embrace that, mate." He gave a miserable imitation of the other man's typical way of talking, and Hook couldn't help but smirk at him.

After a few moments of amicable silence they both took another swig from their glasses until finally, David got up and motioned towards the restaurant with his head. "Come on, let's go inside. Everyone's asking where you are."

Hook raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Is that so?"

David laughed. "Well, how about… our ladies are waiting."

Hook's ears pricked up. Had he just said _our_ ladies? He decided not to push his luck too far by making some pushy remark – he was surprised at how good this talk had been. So, he simply got up and followed David with a lopsided grin on his face. "Never make a lady wait has always been my motto," he declared, "that would absolutely be bad form."

David rooted to the spot abruptly and turned around to throw an almost icy expression over his shoulder. Hook immediately froze and wished he hadn't said anything. Bloody hell, had that sounded too flippant to Emma's father's ears? It wasn't a secret in _any_ realm that Captain Hook had always been a ladies' man during his many years as a restless farer of the Seven Seas, but it hadn't really been very smart to bring that back to the prince's mind.

David gave him a glare. "Oh, and pirate? Just so you know..." he paused for a moment. "Unless you hurt the princess – and in that case her father would have to run you through –" Hook raised his eyebrows in question again, and David nodded almost curtly as he continued; "...her parents approve." And with that, he turned around again without further ado and entered the diner. A huge grin split Hook's face as he followed him inside, into the light and warmth.

Emma was waiting inside, standing at the counter right near the door. David passed by her without a word with Hook close at his heels. Her father was one thing, but she couldn't believe that Hook wasn't making any move to stop by and offer any explanation either. She stopped him with her hand against his chest and whispered, "Hey! What was _that_ about?"

Hook felt so elated about the turn the evening had taken that he was completely in the mood for teasing once more. So he just looked down at her hand on his chest, threw her a wink and smirked, suddenly all dashing rapscallion again. "And wouldn't you like to know," he replied smoothly, throwing her own words back at her. He sauntered past her, casually yet deliberately brushing his thigh against hers while steering towards the Charmings' table and sitting down opposite Mary Margaret and David without further ado. Emma's disbelieving gaze followed him, open-mouthed, unconsciously drinking in the sight of him as he strutted through the diner like he owned the place. Of course, the long black leather coat prevented her from really _seeing_ anything, but she just loved to watch the way he walked, she always had, with that insolent pirate swagger.

"Emma?" Granny's voice came from behind the counter and woke her from her reverie. "What can I do for you? Cocoa?"

"Hmmm? Ah... yes," she replied absentmindedly, still not able to take her eyes off of Hook's back. _That cheeky bastard!_

Mary Margaret gave the new arrival at her table a probing, almost severe and even slightly haughty look. Hook had seen that look on many occasions from her, and often rightfully so. He had to admit when he replayed back their various encounters from the past and the innuendos he'd thrown at her, he hadn't exactly given her cause to warm to him. Mary Margaret raised her chin and addressed him directly. "So... you still fancy my daughter, pirate?"

The fairest one of all had never been the one for fair talking, and Hook knew there was no use in trying to be evasive now. His eyebrows twitched, and he tilted his head in that inimitable way of his that was a nod, a shrug and the hint of an old-fashioned bow all in one. It was a _yes_.

"You might wish you had squashed me when you had the chance," she told him in a challenging tone, but in her eyes there was a surprising hint of softness and mild teasing.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," was his only half-mocking answer.

Mary Margaret nodded slowly. "I always wondered why dreaded pirate Captain Hook wanted me to steal a specific wedding ring, when he simply could've turned me in for the reward or demanded gold for a passage on his ship," she finally said thoughtfully. Hook grinned, scratched behind his ear and looked down for a second in that way of his before looking at her again. She leaned a little forward. "You were on a _mission_."

He ran his ringed thumb up and down the beer glass and threw her a half-sheepish, half-amused look from under his thick eyebrows, his head slightly tilted down. "Apparently so, love," he replied.

Mary Margaret nodded again and looked at her husband. David smiled, and she turned back to Hook. "Thank you for bringing her back, twice," she finally told him solemnly, motioning her head to Emma who still stood at the counter with her mouth somewhat agape at the sight of her parents and Hook obviously about to get all chatty while she was waiting for her cocoa.

Hook shrugged. "I do assure you my reasons were purely selfish," he answered lightly and stole a glance at Emma from under his long eyelashes, distracted for a moment by the sight of her blonde locks falling down softly over the back of her red leather jacket. Without being aware of it, he moistened his lips and lightly rubbed the tips of his thumb and index finger together, recreating the feeling of running them through her hair when they had kissed outside. Had that been only less than ten minutes ago?

Mary Margaret's eyes followed his gaze, and she smiled almost fondly in a reluctant way when she saw how his scruffy, handsome face shone as he looked at her daughter, like suddenly everything else around him had lost its meaning. How had she never noticed that before? Or, maybe she had noticed it, but misinterpreted it completely – more as the look of a predator looking at his prey. But there was so much more to him, she saw that now. "Of course," she replied with benevolent irony in her voice, "always the pirate."

Hook turned to her again with a grin and tilted his head again in what was his own special way of shrugging. "Afraid so, Milady," he purred and winked at her, like he had done before a few times already, minus the lewdness of course.

This time, instead of rolling her eyes, she just shook her head and looked down at her newborn son sleeping peacefully in her arms. Without looking at Hook, she smiled and quietly replied, "_Liar._"

He snorted a little laugh and raised his glass to Mary Margaret with a slight bow of his head to which she replied with a very similar gesture. The rest remained unsaid, but he understood anyway what she was trying to say; or, to be more specific, what she was trying to _do_. Just like David, only a short time ago, she had been very quick to fall into her old pattern of _"don't trust the pirate"_ again at the slightest opportunity, even if she could – and _should_ – have known better, because he had more than proven his loyalty by then. Before their journey to Neverland, he had to admit that he hadn't given her – or anyone else – many reasons to trust him.

But this was nothing more and nothing less than Her Royal Highness Princess Snow White offering her apologies to Captain Hook, the pirate. He'd never cared much about what people thought of him – except for very few people, that is – but he allowed himself to enjoy the appreciation he knew he'd just received. David's words reverberated in his head: _her parents approve. _As if he had read his thoughts, David grinned at Hook, gave him a barely perceptible nod and emptied his glass in one big gulp.

"You guys... okay?" Emma asked, and he almost jumped, not having noticed she'd finally approached the family table. _Family table?_ He shook his head at himself even as he thought, "_I could get used to that"._ She slid on the seat bench beside him, not before flashing him one of her smiles that had been so very rare until lately. He could – and hopefully would – get used to them, too. Almost casually, she brushed the back of her left hand against his right leg under the table. The light touch made the skin of his leg underneath the black leather tingle, but what thrilled him even more was the ease and naturalness of her move.

"More than okay," David replied before Hook had pulled his wits together enough to answer, which was a remarkable thing by itself. "But I think," – he lightly touched Mary Margaret's shoulder – "we should take your brother home now." His wife nodded, and they both got up from the table.

The goodbye ceremony was over in a few moments, and Emma and Hook were left alone at the table. Immediately, the air seemed filled with the invisible thrum of buzzing electricity. Charged and heavy. She turned to him and saw that he was looking at her expectantly with sparkling, dancing eyes.

Emma swallowed once before jumping to a neutral topic. "Do I have to apologize for my parents?" she asked with a sheepish grin, perfectly well aware that David and Mary Margaret hadn't made it any easier for him than she had; actually, he'd even had a harder time earning _their_ trust than hers, although David had seemed to warm up to him a little earlier than his wife.

"That won't be necessary, love," he told her and leaned a little back, resting his right arm on the back of the seat, his hand hanging down and his knuckles casually, lightly brushing her shoulder. "Although, come to think of it..." a roguish glint appeared in his eyes and he rolled his tongue through his mouth in that very distracting way of his. "Just what _exactly_ would an apology of Your Highness have looked like, Swan?"

She let the hot cocoa swirl in her mug and threw him one of her suggestive smiles from under her long eyelashes. _Bloody hell_, he would have to get used to those, too. "I guess we'll never find out now..." she told him with feigned regret and took a sip from the aromatic beverage. The melting whipped cream left a trace on her upper lip, and she looked him directly in the eyes while she licked the cream off her lip in a slow tease, enjoying the sight of his jaw almost dropping to the floor.

Hook almost didn't trust his eyes; her barely veiled sensual gesture and her expression and flirty voice almost took his breath away. Granted, she had flirted with him before, but that had always held some sort of _it's-not-going-to-happen-anyway-mate _attitude, although deep down he'd always known better. But now that things between them had changed, her flirting had come to have a completely different meaning. It was nothing more and nothing less than a promise – a promise that made his head dizzy and his blood boil. Without even noticing, he licked his lips and shifted a little restlessly on that bench.

The boy's voice suddenly woke him from his daydreams. "Find out what?" Henry asked as he walked up to their table and sat on the bench where his grandparents had just been.

"Ah... about the secret ingredient of Granny's lasagna," Emma quickly and smoothly replied, and Hook grinned to himself. His lass had indeed the sneakiness of a true pirate in her.

But Henry wasn't that easily fooled. He rolled his eyes at his mother. "I don't even wanna know," he commented with all the wisdom of his 12 years, and Emma was taken aback. "Mom, is it okay if I spend the night... you now..." He motioned his head to Regina who was standing across the room, leaning against the bar. Robin was at her side, carrying his sleeping son on his arm. The look Regina gave him was definitely... _yearning_, Emma thought to herself with amusement. She made a mental note to tease the Evil Queen about exactly that.

"Spend the night at your other mom's house?" she suggested with an encouraging smile, and Henry nodded a little hesitantly. Emma put her hands on his shoulders. "Listen, kid, once and for all… it's okay to call her your mom, too, because..." she paused briefly, then nodded – to her son and to herself – "...because that's what she _is_. And yes, of course it's okay to spend the night there, as long as it's okay with her." She looked over at her former enemy again.

"She said it is," Henry told her eagerly. "And I think Robin and Roland are staying, too."

Emma shrugged. "If that's okay with you, kid?"

"You've got to be kidding me, mom!" Henry exclaimed and jumped up from his seat; Emma raised her eyebrows in question. "I mean, seriously," – he waved his hand at her and Hook in an all-encompassing way – "my mom is dating _Captain Hook_, and my other mom is making out with _Robin Hood_!" He laughed. "How cool is that?" Hook suppressed a grin while he watched mother and son interact.

Emma was taken aback. This kid scared the hell out of her sometimes. "Ahm, I..." she started, but Henry had already turned away and was running over to Regina who greeted him with one of those smiles reserved only for him and ruffled his hair. She looked at Emma and gave her a friendly nod; Emma returned the gesture, and then the little group left the diner.

Hook cleared his throat and Emma turned to him again. "The lad seems to approve..." he waved his hand between himself and his Swan in a gesture very similar to Henry's before "...but you'll have to enlighten me, love. What exactly did he mean by... _dating?_" He raised his eyebrows in question, and his fingers almost casually played with a strand of her hair.

Emma grinned at his confusion that made her handsome, blatantly self-confident, sexy pirate nothing but adorable. It would be fun to introduce him further to modern times. "Ah... yeah, dating... that means... it means that you and me..." He leaned a little forward and looked at her with curious, expectant eyes of a blazing blue that had already seen so much, yet were so clueless sometimes. She scoured her mind for an old-fashioned synonym that her three hundred years old pirate would understand, and then her face lit up and she snapped her fingers. "Courting!" she offered. "Dating means pretty much courting."

"I see..." He nodded thoughtfully and leaned back with a pleased grin into a pose that couldn't be described other than smug. He rested his hook on the enormous silver buckle of his broad leather belt; a gesture that she had secretly always found weirdly sexy. "The lad's right, Swan. You are indeed courting me." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"I'm_ not!_" Emma replied indignantly, but not as fiercely as she had planned. Blushing slightly, she suppressed a grin and slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

"Come on, everyone can see it!" he teased with a nonchalant move of his hand, and she didn't even bother to fight back the happy grin any longer. In fact, she was done suppressing _anything_, and she had never felt better.

She shook her head and smiled. "_Scoundrel,_" she chastised.

He chuckled and tilted his head, looking down at his hand as it played with the almost empty beer glass. "Aye, that I am," he purred. Emma's gaze followed his, and for a moment she got lost just watching Hook's ringed index finger painting patterns into the condensed moisture on the outside of the glass. Then suddenly, he pushed it away and turned to her. "Come on, Swan," he said. "It's time we take our leave."

* * *

A big thank you goes to my beta reader and editor _**emeraldromance **_- I'm sure many of you have read her fantastic stories already.

And, furthermore, a special thank you (or, should I say, grazie) to my brainstorm beast and musetta _Silvia_... sei omicidiale!

Reviews are highly appreciated!


	2. Because You Want Me

First of all, thank you to everybody who read this and especially to those who took the time to review. I hope you enjoy to see how the journey goes on.

* * *

We have left off our brand new couple at a table at Granny's on the evening of the naming celebration, when Hook has just suggested to leave... find out which destination he has in mind.

_**Chapter 2:**_

_**Because You Want Me**_

Had she just heard right? _Come on, Swan; it's time we take our leave._

Emma was taken completely by surprise at this sudden suggestion. She'd just started to enjoy their sitting together, flirting, doing the couple dance for the first time, and she was amazed at how comfortable it felt; how easily she'd slipped on the new situation. It felt like a fancy pair of gloves that she'd secretly tried on countless times, but never dared to wear, only to find out now that they fit perfectly... were _exactly_ right... not ridiculous at all. She wanted to revel in it, sit close to him without being anxious of sitting _too_ close; maybe even lean into him a little and run her hand up and down his arm, completely uncaring if anyone watched. But then again... she looked into his shining blue eyes, saw the adorably adoring smile on his face – bare of any teasing now – and it simply took her breath away, hitting her right in the pit of her stomach. In that moment, she forgot where she was. Time and place, or who else was present was irrelevant. She forgot what she'd wanted to say or even how to breathe. All she wanted now was to be alone with him – to find out how perfectly that glove really fit. Obviously, he was having similar thoughts judging by his sudden suggestion that they should go.

"Leave?" she echoed feebly and thought: _Oh God, this is really happening!_

Hook nodded. "It's been a long day." He waved his hand. "_Days_." She still saw no teasing, no lewdness on his face. Obviously, he was determined to be discreet. _I'm always a gentleman._

"Okay," Emma replied and swallowed her agitation. With some effort she slipped out of the booth, suddenly feeling clumsier than ever, her palms sweating. Her legs didn't seem so firm right now, and she wasn't sure if that was due to the strain she'd gone through in the last hours – no, Hook was right; it had been _days_, at least for _them_ – or if the reason for her wobbly legs was the eager anticipation she felt, the expectancy of something exciting and unspeakably sweet, something wonderful yet delightfully dangerous. The more she thought of it, the shakier her legs seemed to become. Emma tried to concentrate on just setting one foot in front of the other step-by-step, nodding her good nights to the left and to the right while shaking a few hands. She hardly noticed what she was saying to whom, just hoping it made at least some sense. She probably looked like an idiot, but she reasoned that she didn't really care. Let them think what they wanted.

Hook followed her, pleasantly surprised at how many respectful, even friendly nods were thrown his way. He was quick enough to open the door for Emma, and they wordlessly left the diner and stepped out into the cold again, though neither of them really felt it. They were both too enveloped in their warm, fuzzy bubble to be bothered by it. They walked in silence; the sleeve of her red jacket brushing against his heavy leather coat was their only point of contact. It could've been any other evening in Storybrooke with the pirate walking beside the sheriff as usual – an onlooker might not even realize they were a couple – but the secret understanding which had always hung between them had reached a new level.

Slowly, shoulder by shoulder, they crossed the small outdoor patio, passing by _their_ table. Emma smiled to herself, replaying their talk... their kiss in her head. She could still taste his lips on hers and feel his hand in her hair, his delicate tongue carefully exploring her mouth. She knew that many, many more kisses would follow, but she also knew that she would never forget this one and how it had felt – the first one deliberately given and shared, not born from an overload of emotions and confusion in a surreal, hostile surrounding. This one had been unspeakably careful, soft and sweet, but also passionate, full of understanding and happiness – no, more than happiness; pure _bliss_. At the same time, it'd held so many promises: promises of home, of love, a future... even if she knew damn well that it wouldn't be all sunshine and roses.

Hook sensed that Emma had slowed her step a bit and glanced at her from the side. That one look was enough for him to know what she was thinking. For him, it was simply written all over her face, and to see that happiness in her features made his heart dance and ache with the love he felt for this woman. And there was more. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming desire well up inside of him that ran like a bolt of lightning through his whole body and fogged his sight. He'd always more than "fancied" her – physically as well as for her spirit and intellect – but the fact that he now _knew_ they would take that ultimate step soon and be really and truly united made his desire all the more powerful. It cost him all the self-control he could muster to stay calm now. Still, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms again, run his hand through her golden hair and kiss her dizzy. He knew he easily _could_have_, _had he the intention to, but he made no such move. Hook had learned over the course of three hundred restless years every way there was to make a woman lose her senses in his arms and give in to him easily, even make her beg him to take her, but that was not what he wanted for this woman; at least not for the first time they would finally become one. He loved Emma Swan with all his heart and soul, and his promise of no trickery would remain until the final step. Until _she_ was ready.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand over his mouth unconsciously, reveling in her dreamy expression once more. Tentatively, but at the same time completely naturally, Emma put her hand on his leather-clad shoulder. He enjoyed the feeling and flashed her one of his heart-stopping smiles from the side.

"Are you going to tell me what David wanted?" she asked with an almost challenging smile. "And what Mary Margaret told you?"

"Quite persistent, aren't we?" he teased. He didn't want to look like he was bragging about her father and mother apologizing to him; like always when someone addressed him "being good" or a hero, it embarrassed him. He wasn't used to that yet and had never been looking for that kind of glory either. "Let's just say we had a little heart-to-heart talk." He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Came clean about a few things."

Emma nudged him playfully. More intimate gestures, he was thrilled to notice. "He likes you," she declared and could barely hide how happy that made her. "They both do."

Hook tilted his head and shrugged. "I'm a very amiable fellow," he commented smoothly, "it just took them a tad longer to notice." But Emma could see how pleased he was himself that he seemed to be winning over her parents at last. Of course, he couldn't help but add with a cheeky grin: "Must run in the family, too."

She chuckled and decided not to poke any further and just leave it at that. Again, she kind of got lost in simply looking at him, like she was just now _really_ seeing him for the first time. He'd been something like her ever-present shadow for so long – quiet sometimes, and sometimes oh so irritating; infuriating even... but always there, tenacious, reliable and imperturbable. She'd gotten used to it, just like everybody else in Storybrooke seemed to. Even if he sometimes said inconvenient things to her that challenged and forced her to question herself, her own goals and beliefs, she'd never felt uncomfortable in his presence. In fact, she'd actually come to really appreciate it and had felt increasingly like something was missing when he wasn't around. Like earlier, when she'd been sitting inside Granny's with her parents and baby brother and all the other residents of Storybrooke – and suddenly she'd noticed that the scenery just wasn't _complete,_ and that something didn't feel right. _Home_, she thought, and for the first time she really, fully realized that he was part of that feeling, part of that _home_.

"What is it?" Hook's voice shook her from her reverie, and it took her a few seconds to focus on his face again; her gaze had drifted off somehow.

Emma smiled and shook her head. "Nothing."

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head a little forward. "And why are you looking at me like that?" He grinned and waved his hand. "Not that I would dare complain."

She opened her mouth, but before the words could tumble out – _there will be a perfect time and place for that_, she thought vaguely– she just shrugged and said lightly; "Well, I told you I wouldn't take my eyes off of you."

"Ah." He nodded. "Aye, that you did. Alas, they did wander astray somewhere along the way..." he teased.

Emma sighed and inclined her head a bit, looking at him with a little sheepish smile from under her long eyelashes. "Yeah..." Her smile faded into a more serious look, a faint memory of a despicable monstrous creature crossed her mind: her almost-fiancé. But then, she guessed she couldn't be held responsible for that misstep – Pan's curse and the forgetting spell were to blame for her eyes' momentary detour. "Yours never did."

He shook his head solemnly. "Not for one minute."

They'd moved on slowly and now reached the little fence separating Granny's property from the road. Emma's heart started to beat faster as she eyed the path which would take them in the direction of Granny's side entrance, leading directly to the guest rooms where she was sure they were headed. She started to question how she would manage to even walk straight, so dizzy was her head starting to feel. Every step she would be taking now would shorten the distance between being out here in the chilly open and finally being alone with Hook in the cocooning warmth of his bedroom_. His_ _bedroom!_ God, the thought alone made more than a little warmth spread from the depth of her belly throughout her whole body – it was more of an inferno. But when she turned to the right, she was surprised to slightly bump into his leather-clad front as he turned in the opposite direction. He caught her left elbow in his hand, and she let out a little involuntary gasp.

"Where are we going?" Emma asked with a slight furrow of her brow.

Hook seemed genuinely confused. "Why, I'm seeing you safely to your vessel, of course," he replied, and she thought she'd heard wrong and looked at him with wide, startled eyes. "Ah... unless you'd prefer me to escort you home, of course," he went on quickly, sensing but not understanding Emma's bewilderment, and added; "which I reckoned is a bit too distanced to walk at night."

She was totally puzzled. "But... but I thought... we..." she stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence, and then finally fell silent, feeling silly. A warm blush crept slowly over her face. Had she made a complete idiot of herself now by entirely misinterpreting his intentions?

Suddenly, the scales fell from his eyes and Hook realized in absolute disbelief what his Swan's intention had been; obviously, she'd been ready and willing to give herself completely to him tonight already – something he never would've dared to expect, even with the development their relationship had already taken. But to see in her wide green eyes that his lady had really sincerely been open to that, filled him with awe and simply took his breath away. He smiled and looked at her long and longingly, raised his left arm and smoothed out her hair ever-so-tenderly with his hook. Emma closed her eyes involuntarily for the fraction of a second at the familiar gesture.

"Believe me, love," he said in a soft, yet hoarse voice, "I would be more than thrilled to shower you with my..." – he paused for a second to scratch behind his ear – "...prompt attentions..." – and at that point, he couldn't help but run his tongue over his lower lip, it was stronger than him – "...but I presumed after those last eventful and exhausting days you'd prefer to spend the night at home with your family... your loved ones," he added.

Emma scrutinized him closely, still in disbelief that obviously he was not planning to pluck that sweet apple ready to fall into his open hand. She could see in his expressive, beautiful eyes what a great amount of self-control this was obviously costing him, and she realized that in spite of all his chasing, all his invading her personal space and throwing innuendos... despite all his _many_ displays of lewdness, Killian Jones was indeed a gentleman and was once again putting _her_ first, pushing aside his own wishes and desires that were certainly churning underneath his calm surface. This touched her beyond anything.

Emma smiled with shining eyes and surprised him by slowly and deliberately lacing her right arm through his left, something she had never done before. It was a gesture that seemed oddly old-fashioned, but was all the more endearing as it came from Emma tough-lass Swan. She rested her hand firmly on the leather sheath that held his hook. Its surface felt cool and rough, but at the same time smooth against her fingertips, the warmth of his skin seeping through it. He looked down at her hand and up into her eyes, mouth open and eyebrows raised in question, and she smiled openly at him and simply said: "I do."

Hook's face was a mirror of all the emotions flooding through him while in his mind flashbacks were replaying all the times she had pushed him away, denied her feelings, fled from him, from _them_.

In Neverland: _"...a one-time thing..."_

In New York: _"...a guy I love..."_

In Storybrooke: _"I'm not embracing anything!"_

"_I can't trust you now, how can I?"_

"_So tell me, what is it? Why you're so scared to stay? I think it's because you can see a future here, a happy one."_

"_Let me guess – with you?"_

"_Next time you try to take my power away, why don't you try to enchant the lips of someone I'll actually kiss?"_

"_I was never a part of any of this."_

Her words had hurt, every single time, although he'd done his best to hide it because he'd always known that pushing her towards anything she wasn't really ready for would never work out. Emma Swan had to overcome her fears and doubts all by herself and find out what she really wanted, allow herself to be happy and finally believe that it hope and happiness was possible for her. All he could do was stand by her side and show her that he would always have her back and be there for her, no matter what, no matter how hard she tried to push him away. Show her that he was not expecting anything in return from her and that he was putting her first, always.

And now there she was, with her _"I do"_ practically telling him that she'd come to see him as an equivalent for home, family... and _loved_ ones. She wanted to be with him, she really did. After having gone through an ordeal with him – after having won another battle, having saved their world once more – she'd left his side to run to her family. But now that she'd come clean with her parents, her son and with finding her home here in Storybrooke, she'd come to _him_. His presence was the one she was looking for at the end of the day, and after all had been said and done and concluded, all she wanted now was to be with him – _and_ she was not afraid anymore to admit to that.

Hook swallowed thickly – once, twice... there was a huge lump in his throat that left him almost speechless; something he really wasn't used to, like his own croaky voice almost failing him. "Are you sure, Swan?"

Emma's confident smile never faltered. "I haven't been so sure about anything... in a long, long time," she told him sincerely.

She saw that her cutthroat ruffian of a pirate was in danger of being overwhelmed by his emotions and could only try to imagine what her response meant to him. The air between them was heavily loaded with unspoken words and thickly swirling with emotions. Emma didn't want to ruin the moment somehow by burdening it with too much weight, so she decided to add a light note – something that usually was _his_ specialty and never had failed to make her smile, even in her darkest hours. She tilted her head and playfully batted her eyelashes.

"Besides... you might not remember it, but I do; you still owe me a nightcap." She smiled at him flirtatiously, almost encouragingly, shaking her head inwardly at the absurdity of the situation. In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined that one day she'd have to be the one to encourage Killian _it's-about-bloody-time_ Jones to finally make a pass at her. "I've been waiting for it for decades," she added.

Hook looked down at her hand on his arm again with a little, almost shy laugh, then nodded slowly. When he looked at her again, his blue eyes were clear and focused; he looked at her from under his twitching eyebrows and tilted his head in a slight bow, swaying out his right arm invitingly towards the side entrance of Granny's. "Well, in that case... would you be inclined to honor me with your presence in my humble quarters?"

Emma's heart skipped a beat, and she deliberately picked up his sometimes old-fashioned way of talking that held its very own appeal. "I'd be delighted."

He answered with a pleased smile and turned away from her, leading the way towards the side entrance of the diner and up the stairs with Emma following him closely. He was glad that for a few moments she couldn't see his face and he had the chance to regain his composure a little. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and let out a deep breath. So, this was actually happening? After all this time of longing, chasing and fighting for her affection, he almost couldn't believe that he finally _had_ her – and she was going to be his completely. Suddenly, his nerves were fluttering and he almost tripped on the stairs. _Damn,_ he chastised himself mentally, _pull yourself together, mate. Act like a man and don't make a twit of yourself!_

Emma on the other hand could tell from the way he carefully set his steps on the stairs that his usual swagger seemed to fail him, but rather than turn her off, it touched a string deep inside her, just as it did every time he let her see his vulnerable side. Her heart was hammering so fast in her chest that she could feel it in her throat. Although she had told him the truth – she was indeed sure she was doing the right thing – that meant by no means she was calm. The heat she'd felt already before in her stomach had been simmering and boiling and spreading throughout her whole body now, pulsating in every nerve, waiting to erupt. She had an idea that the eruption would be earth shattering. That was enough to make her shiver, in spite of the heat.

They reached the door of Hook's guest room and he pulled a key out of one of the pockets of his coat. For a moment, he looked down at the small key in his ringed hand and threw a questioning glance at Emma. She smiled, and he inserted the key into the keyhole; he had to fumble a bit to turn it and open the door – his fingers were skilled in many ways, but his hand was not used to tiny keys like that, and especially now he was clumsier than ever. Again, Emma was touched beyond anything by his obvious nervousness, and she asked herself where the dashing rapscallion had gone.

Finally they entered the room and Hook closed the door carefully behind them, reaching out to switch on the light. It still seemed a bit like suspicious magic to him, but he'd learned to adapt to that part of this realm very quickly. The ceiling lamp wasn't very strong though, so the small bedroom was only dimly lit. Automatically, Emma's eyes darted over to the bed that was neatly made – she hadn't it expected anything less from a man who'd lived in the restricted limits of a ship for centuries. He noticed that his gaze followed hers, and suddenly she blushed, the butterflies in her stomach going in complete uproar.

"Here we are," he said and waved his hand in a gesture that encompassed the room. "Humble, as I said."

"_We_ are here," she replied and swallowed. "That's enough, I'd say."

He let out a nervous, yet pleased little laugh. For a moment, they just stood there in utter silence maybe only two feet apart, facing each other. But despite the thrumming, vibrating air, there was no awkwardness between them. Still, Hook was hesitating, struggling with himself about what to do next, and that meant something: how to handle a lass in an amorous encounter had surely never been a problem for him. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms now, kiss her and make her truly his in every way. He knew and felt that Emma had decided to open up to him – had stopped her running away from everything including him, _especially_ him – but there was still a part of him that worried that she might shy back again. After all, she was tired and emotionally agitated like churning waters, and maybe tomorrow she would regret it if she stayed with him now. How could he risk that?

Emma looked at him and instinctively sensed what he was feeling, and she couldn't really blame him for it. She did the only thing she could think of and pulled off her jacket. That red leather jacket had become so much of an armor for her, but with him, she didn't need that any longer. She flung it carelessly over the time-worn chair standing beside the door.

Hook got her message; alas, he still hesitated. He raised his hand, took one strand of her hair and let it run through his fingers almost absentmindedly, his intense blue eyes searching hers. Her eyes darted down to his ringed fingers playing with her hair, and she caught herself thinking _Touch me already!_ His voice was rough when he finally spoke; "Emma... I don't want you to think that I'm just after..." he paused, looking for the right words, and she melted a little more inside "...that I'm not..."

"That you're not in this for the long haul?" she interrupted, and he had to suppress a nervous little laugh. Of course, she was oblivious to the fact that she'd used the exact same words he had said to Neal over a year ago, when they'd come back from Neverland and he'd promised his friend to back off for the sake of Henry, for the sake of giving the boy's parents a fair shot. He just nodded, and she went on. "And I don't want you to think that I'm..." she shrugged, looking for the right word herself now "..._easy_ to get." She looked at him and smiled. "I guess we've both sort of spent the last two years proving exactly the opposite, so there really shouldn't be anything to worry about."

He snorted a little laugh and tilted his head. "Aye, that we have."

"So, then..." Emma drew a deep breath and took a step nearer; this time _she_ being the one to shamelessly invade his personal space, tired of waiting. "Are you just gonna stand there and give me more reasons why I should _not_ be here with you right now, or are you gonna take off that coat and give me some of those... _attentions_ you mentioned?"

She had her head slightly tilted down and threw him a look from under her long eyelashes, combined with a breathtakingly suggestive little smile that made him want to kiss it roughly off of her lips. Hook couldn't believe that she actually bit her lower lip a little. He wasn't sure if she'd done it on purpose, but it was a gesture that immediately made his blood boil even more than it already did. Slowly, he started to feel a little uncomfortable in his tight leather pants. Only once had he seen her act like that: back on the Jolly Roger, dressed as a bar wench, when she'd seduced the hell out of his drunken past self while he'd helplessly and furiously looked on – until that crazy moment when he'd knocked out that blatantly shameless bastard that was no one else than himself. This time, this realm, this place nobody was going to interrupt them. No, there was no way he was going to let her leave tonight.

He swallowed a hard lump in his throat before he spoke. His mouth was as dry as gunpowder, and he rolled his tongue through it a few times; still, he thought he would probably not even be able to utter a word, but then suddenly they fell from his lips so easily. "As you wish."

Emma averted her eyes, suddenly feeling unusually shy in spite of her earlier dash. She remembered when he first said those words to her back in Neverland, and later a second time on his ship, and although on both occasions they'd thrown her off track for a split second, she'd been sure back then that it had just been a weird coincidence. He was a three hundred years old pirate, for Heaven's sake, there was no way he could have the slightest idea about a stupid movie from her childhood, about another dashing rapscallion of a pirate dressed in black who used those three words instead of actually saying... _something else_. Something she couldn't, didn't even _dare_ to think about yet because it was frighteningly powerful and indeed more than she could handle right now. _Just set one foot in front of the other._

When she looked away from him, Hook saw that something was going through her mind, and for a moment he was absurdly afraid she might pull back again. But then the moment passed, and her green eyes locked with his once again, and he'd be _damned_ if she wasn't daring him now to live up to his words. _Give me some of those... attentions._ Bloody hell, she was _begging_ for it, and she knew what she was doing. He decided to throw overboard all what was left of his scruples in the light of her obvious, utter conviction and determination. Immediately, he felt his old self-confidence engulf him, and he hooked his thumb in his belt in that nonchalant pose of his. He couldn't help the devilish grin that was creeping over his face as the tip of his wicked tongue slowly moistened his lower lip. Emma noticed both and almost magically her gaze was fixed on his mouth. She could barely suppress a quivery sound escaping her throat; that move of his tongue shot right into the pit of her stomach and then deeper. _Look who's found his dashing rapscallion again,_ she thought.

He tilted his head, and his eyebrow quirked teasingly. "I knew I was right." Even his voice sounded almost like his nonchalant old self again: a little smug, a little teasing, a little hoarse, and _God help her_, he even popped the 't' a little. She felt her toes curl.

Emma frowned. "About what?" She thought for a moment that, in fact, he'd been pretty much right about most things he'd ever said to her, but she had no clue what particular occasion he was referring to right now. But, of course, her mind was clouded right now; her focus was very narrowed, and she could barely concentrate on anything else besides what was right before her, only a few inches away, in the middle of her personal space, right where he belonged: an insanely handsome, hellishly hot, dangerously sexy and unspeakably lovable at the same time pirate. _Her_ pirate.

"I happen to recall in Neverland I told you I would win your heart," Hook explained with a grin and a little shrug, "and that it wouldn't be because of any trickery, but because you would want me."

She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, then she nodded. "Yes, you were right about that," she confirmed without any hesitation.

"Let me hear it," he demanded. She knew he was teasing her in his typical, smug way, but she also knew that a part of him really needed to hear it – and he deserved to hear it. This was nothing like his fishing for compliments in Neverland – _Tell me something, love... in these stories, what was I like? Other than a villain? Handsome, I gather?_ No, this was different. He'd gone to the end of the world for her, even to the end of time, had even crossed the lines between the worlds. He'd risked his life for her and given up everything that had ever meant anything to him – his quest for revenge and his ship which had been his home – and she'd hardly ever shown him that she truly appreciated that, or even that she acknowledged it. In fact, she'd only given him displays of mistrust when they should've been past that for a long time.

She cocked her head a little to the side; an almost girlish gesture that touched something deep inside him. Then she drew a deep breath. _Leap of faith,_ she thought and said: "Killian Jones... Hook." She still smiled at him; a serious smile without any teasing. "You have won my heart," she told him solemnly, and she was surprised herself how easily that had come out – it hadn't been difficult at all to admit it to him, to lay her heart on the line like that; not half as difficult as it had been to admit it to herself. He was looking at her expectantly, with wide blue eyes, his lips slightly parted, as if he was waiting for more. She shook her head and added: "And it was not because of any trickery."

His eyes glittered, his eyebrows shot up, and he pursed his lips lips into that suggestive smile of his. "And...?"

_That devil!_ There was the pirate again. Emma rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You're gonna make me _say_ it?"

He winked with a wicked gleam in his eyes which seemed to burn right into her soul. "Humour me, love." It was said lightly, but she noticed again that there was also a secret urge underneath his flirting tone, the faint rest of insecurity and need for confirmation. Emma thought back to all the times she'd pushed him away... made him understand that she didn't want him. She knew she really hadn't appreciated him very much until recently – or more, she _had_ appreciated him but had been anxious not to show it to him. More than anything, she'd been taking him and his constant pursuit for granted. Though she was making it pretty obvious now by practically telling him she wanted to stay with him tonight, she knew he deserved to actually _hear_ it.

For a split second, Emma's gaze dropped lower and lingered on his full lips before she looked up into his eyes again without blinking. She smiled. "_And_... I want you." His face lit up even more, if possible. She leaned forward, putting both of her hands on his chest, feeling the cool, smooth leather of his vest under her palms, but also feeling the beating of his heart which seemed to be just as frenzied as her own. She brought her lips closely to his right ear and whispered, "_So_ badly."

When she slowly drew back, her cheek caressed his and the sensation of his scruff grazing her skin sent the most delightful shiver down her spine. She felt his jaw tighten and his whole body tense, and she knew he was just barely holding back the volcano underneath the nonchalant surface, on the verge of letting go into something very powerful, overwhelming and promisingly dangerous. She swallowed hard and finally looked into his eyes again. Their faces were so close that their noses were almost touching. She could feel his breath on her face and see the smile dancing in his eyes.

He whispered against her lips in a raucous voice, "About bloody time."

Emma chuckled softly when she remembered the first time – what seemed like ages ago – Hook had uttered those words to her; not more than an inappropriate and infuriatingly suggestive line then, but so accurate now. She heard the dry rustle of the long folds of his leather coat when he finally shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor without taking his eyes off of hers for a second, and without moving away from her so much as an inch; her hands still rested on his chest. Even if she had wanted to – which she didn't – she simply wouldn't have been able to step away from him now. Not one single step. She was a hopeless goner.

She was mesmerized, hypnotized by the intense look in his eyes that held her prisoner. She'd be damned if she was able to stand on her feet one minute longer, so shaky did her knees feel, so dizzy was her head. Thankfully, she didn't have to, because just when she thought she couldn't trust her legs any longer to hold her upright, she felt more than she saw – because her gaze was still fixed on his face – how he wrapped his left arm tightly around her waist, the hard steel of his hook pressing into her spine, her hip.

Emma wouldn't have imagined that it was possible for her heart to beat any faster, any louder... but it did. When he pulled her body closer to his with a little thrust of his hips – raw, primal – she let out a tiny gasp and spread her fingers like wings, her palms still on his chest. She felt his eyes burning deep down to the bottom of her soul, slowly peeling off her every layer until she was bare before him, even if she was still fully clothed. She was aware of how down her walls truly were – crumbled, in fact, destroyed. And the strangest and best thing about that fact was that she didn't care one bit. She didn't need them any more.

Hook's unblinking gaze was locked with hers now. He held her firmly and raised his hand to her face, his fingers brushing one blonde lock away from her cheek, lingering on her jawbone like feathers while his ringed thumb traced her lower lip achingly slowly. The touch electrified her even more and did funny things to her stomach.

"So, have me," he purred in a voice so deep it hummed low in her belly.

* * *

Don't hate me for making the cut here... your reviews motivate me to update quickly ;)

Thank you to my wonderful editor _**emeraldromance** _- I know you're even too busy to update your own stories (I'm sorely missing that!), and you still took the time to smooth out mine.

And thanks to my muse _**Silvia**_ - we do make quite the team!


	3. You'll Feel It

I hope a few of you are still on board and are interested to see how this goes on. Thanks for that and for the kind reviews - they are much appreciated. So, where were we? Ah, yes.

We've left off right after Emma confessed to Hook that he has won her heart without any trickery, and that she indeed wants him - "_so_ badly."

To which he had given her the only adapt response: "So, have me..."

* * *

_**Chapter 3:**_

_**You'll Feel It**_

Hook just kept holding her though; he didn't move in any further. He just left it up to _her_ and her _alone_ – again, like he'd already done a few times that evening – to take the next step. She'd once said to Mary Margaret that she wasn't used to someone putting her first, and now she realized that since she'd met this man, he'd been doing little else than just exactly that, _always_. Emma smiled as she leaned forward again, standing a little on the balls of her feet and – after one last glance at his slightly parted, waiting lips – closed her eyes and kissed him again. This kiss was different than the one on Granny's porch; it was more like their Neverland kiss, but this time it felt _real_. Their mouths collided passionately, breathlessly, opening up as soon as they touched. They were swaying back and forth while teeth were grazing lips, tongues exploring each other.

Her left arm slid around his trim waist and she moved into him even closer – not getting enough of the nearness – while her right hand crept up to the nape of his neck, messing up his always unruly hair that felt so smooth to the touch. Hook cradled her head in his hand. His fingers combed through those silky, golden locks which had attracted him from that very first day on the beanstalk, and which he'd never been able to resist touching whenever the occasion arose. Unlike before – outside on Granny's porch – he was much more confident now and less afraid to take control. His fingers grasped a thick strand of her hair and pulled her head back a little, pushing his head forward, and Emma followed his demand eagerly, surrendering to him completely now as he claimed her mouth with a fierceness that left her breathless. His hook rested on the small of her back, pulling her soft body into his hard one, and for the first time she felt that he _definitely_ was as ready for her as she was for him. And suddenly, a teasing memory of his voice sounded in her head: _When I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it._

Emma's fingers curled in his hair as if they had a will of their own, tugging at it roughly and impatiently. God, how she wanted to _feel it_. Almost abruptly, she broke the kiss, slightly pushing him away. For a moment he was taken aback, but then she looked at him with glittering eyes and brought her hands to the clasps of his leather vest. "I always wanted to know how these work," she breathed, "it looks so complicated..." With a sly grin, she started to unfasten the ornate metal clasps as if she'd done it a hundred times before, one by one.

Hook swallowed hard and commented in a rough voice; "You appear to be quite a natural, love..."

Emma laughed softly, her voice smoky and hoarse. "I've heard that before..."

When she'd completely undone all the clasps, she tried to pull the vest down over his shoulders, but something was in the way. Hook chuckled softly at her display of impatience and brought both his hand and his hook to his belt, unbuckling it with a few expert moves. It fell to the floor with a loud clanging noise, then he shrugged off the vest and let it fall to the floor, too. As usual, his shirt was more unbuttoned than buttoned, and Emma's hands seemed to have a will of their own as they went up to his chest, sliding into the inviting opening of the garment, running over his warm, bare skin for the first time. It felt better than she'd ever imagined – and she'd secretly imagined _many_ times how that would feel. Emma reveled in the feeling of his abundant chest hair against the soft, delicate skin of her palms, and he automatically arched his back with a sigh, aching for more of her touch.

She leaned forward and kissed the side of his throat, tugging with her teeth at the sensitive skin and inhaling his scent. His skin was warm and smooth, and he smelled like heaven and salt and sea and so very manly; it made her even dizzier. Her soft mouth slid further down to his chest while she started to completely unbutton his shirt. Hook entangled his fingers in her hair, threw back his head and groaned. "Emma... you have no idea what you're doing to me..."

She looked at him with sparkling green eyes. "Why don't you show me?" With a swift move, she pulled the tight grey sweater over her head and had him gasping at the sight of her bare torso, her breasts only covered by something that seemed to be a very tiny, strange-looking white bodice. He would gladly deal with that later. He had his now unbuttoned shirt still on, but it fell open, and she caught her first glance at how perfectly his dark body hair was spread over his well-toned upper body, trailing down over his flat stomach and his neatly defined abs until it disappeared in the waist of his black leather pants, and – _Holy Mother of God_ – they were held by black leather laces. Unconsciously, her fingers played in the air as she imagined unlacing them. Her gaze was fixed on those cords, mesmerized, and she sucked on her bottom lip while imagining undoing them with her teeth. Almost embarrassed about her own boldness, she averted her eyes.

He enjoyed her obvious appreciation for a moment before he stepped back and gripped his hook, making a move to take it off. Emma recognized immediately what he was going to do and stopped him, firmly putting her hand over his. "No, please don't," she demanded quickly. "I said I want you, and I meant every bit of you. Just the way you are."

He tilted his head a little, almost shaking it slightly. "Emma... I don't want to risk hurting you..."

She shook her head firmly, pulled his hand away and caressed the steel of the hook with her other hand – just as she'd already done once before, but of course he wasn't aware of it, because that had been his past self. "I have seen how gentle you can be when you use it," she told him softly. "I know you're not going to hurt me."

Hook scratched slowly behind his ear, a slightly embarrassed gesture. "Love, I'm afraid I won't be able to... _control_ myself very much." She looked at him questioningly, and he motioned his hand between them in an all-encompassing move. "This might get a little..." he tilted his head "..._wild_."

Emma drew in a sharp breath at the promising sound of his words. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "But I don't want you to control yourself," she replied, and he scrutinized her closely, with fascination in his eyes. She blushed but went on firmly. "I want you to... get carried away. Carry_ me _away_._ No bounds. No holds barred." She saw his eyes blaze with delight, and before she could control herself she added, "You know, there is something weirdly sexy about that hook."

For a few seconds, neither of them made a move, and he swallowed hard. Then, he slowly reached out with his left arm and slid the tip of the hook slowly, carefully into the waistband of her jeans. She could feel the cold steel on her skin and watched with fascination. The sight of his dangerous trademark attachment directly on her bare skin along with the sensation of the cold steel on her lower belly did funny things to her. When she looked up at his face again, she saw that he was looking directly into her eyes with a slight, almost diabolical smile tugging at the corners of his beautiful mouth. Slowly, he pulled her towards him again by the waistband of her jeans, eyeing her like an exquisite catch he had just gaffed with his hook.

"Is there, now?" he rasped in a low voice.

Emma swallowed, her gaze wandering down from his eyes to linger on his slightly parted sinful lips that were once more moistened by his wicked tongue. Then, her eyes darted up to his again and she saw how he looked at her: an almost dangerous, burning gaze from predator's eyes, ready to strike on his prey, but full of love and tenderness all at the same time. She trusted him completely.

"Take me to bed, Killian," she replied breathlessly.

With a sudden move that made her gasp, he swept her up into his arms. His eyes never leaving hers, she had a bout of déjà-vu, thinking of how his past self had picked her up to take her to his ship. But he'd been different then – half-drunk and a little clumsy, making it all too easy for her to play him exactly how she needed. This time, Killian Jones was completely sober and in absolute control of the situation. Automatically, her arms went around his neck.

In a rough voice he told her, "Whatever the princess desires, the princess gets."

Just the sound of his voice made all the muscles in her lower belly clench. With three determined steps, he crossed the small room, effortlessly carrying her weight in his strong arms. When he reached the bed, he put her down carefully and sat beside her. His hooked arm was still wrapped around her tightly and his hand was at the back of her head, holding her firmly in place, devouring her mouth with demanding kisses she eagerly returned.

Emma tugged at his shirt impatiently, finally managing to lower it down over his shoulders. He released her from his grip long enough to shrug it off and used his hand to slide it over his hook. She drank in the sight of him for a long moment, seeing his bare arms for the first time. His shoulders were broad and firm, and his arms well-toned with a sprinkle of dark hair on his right forearm; the left forearm was covered almost up to the elbow with the rigid black leather sheath of the hook. Emma eyed it curiously; she just _had_ to reach out and touch it.

Hook saw her appreciative glance and reveled in it although he knew damn well how gorgeous he was – _devilishly handsome_, as he never tired to point out. But still, her admiration made him feel like he could walk on water. He lifted his left arm and slowly, _carefully_, ran his hook from her bare right shoulder down over her front and along the outer side of her breast. He could see her shiver, and much to his further delight, he could clearly see the outline of her peak sharpen and point through the sheer material of her tiny bodice in reaction to his touch. His hand went for the button of her jeans and – as he'd perfected the art of undoing buttons one-handed over the decades – he had it open in the blink of an eye.

Emma's green gaze had been following the trail of his hook as if hypnotized, and she felt a burning desire pool between her legs like hot liquid lead. He tugged at her jeans and she lifted her hips from the mattress so he could pull them down and finally off after getting rid of her boots first. He was still wearing his pants, though she felt the urge to do something about that soon. He ran his hook back over her front, slightly grazing it over the erect tip of her breast and causing her to inhale sharply, then let out a quivering sound almost like a sigh.

"You're going to have to help me out with this bodice of yours," he rasped, his voice low and rough, "or I'm afraid it will come off in pieces."

She reached behind her back to unhook the bra; she was fairly certain that he would be an expert with that soon, too. But she admitted to herself that the thought of her bra coming off in pieces had something very appealing to it, and she was sure something like that would happen in the future.

It was Hook's turn now to stare, mesmerized, at the sight of her exposed, nude chest. Her creamy breasts were like he'd always imagined them: not too big and not too small, firm and round, apparently the perfect form and size to fit in his hand. Their pointed peaks were the visible proof of her eager anticipation. Unconsciously, he rubbed his thumb over the tips of his fingers and rolled his tongue through his mouth. "I'll be damned..." he murmured.

There was no way he could keep on his pants any longer; the smooth, but at the same time _rigid_ leather was causing him almost physical pain in his most sensitive body area now. His gaze still fixed on Emma's perfectly shaped body, he got up from the bed and hand and hook reached for the leather laces. Suddenly, staring at him with a mix of invitation and adoration, she jumped into action; her hands shot forward, and she grabbed his wrist and the sheath that held his hook.

"Don't you dare," she gasped and pushed him away. There was no way she'd miss out on doing that herself. Slowly and lightly, she ran the back of her right hand over the clearly visible shape of him, feeling him come to life under her touch. Hook's sharp intake of breath made a devilish smile curve _her_ lips, so very similar to his own trademark grin, and she repeated the touch before fishing for the leather laces, fumbling to undo them.

He was beyond thrilled about her boldness and playfulness and watched her fingers working meticulously, but he _really_ needed to free himself from the leather confines now… _urgently_. "Emma," he warned hoarsely, "you'd better make haste, or else I cannot be held accountable."

The more she was fiddling with the lacing, the more anxious she grew. In spite of her determination, her fingertips became slick with sweat from her sudden nervousness. Finally, he had to put his big hand over hers and help her with the task, and together they finally loosened the laces. Emma paused for a moment and looked up at him, suddenly frightened by her own courage. He nodded with an encouraging smile that was so slight that it barely reached the corners of his mouth and was mostly visible in his eyes. "Go ahead, Swan," he prompted, softly and playfully daring her at the same time.

She drew a deep breath and gave the black leather a firm tug. Given how tight they were, the pants came down surprisingly easily, almost falling off his slender hips. Both of them gasped audibly when he was finally free and sprung into her waiting hands. For a moment, she just held him and looked up at him again, marveling at the combination of the hot, silky smoothness of his skin and the steely rigidity that lay underneath: a mix that made all her senses reel and tingle.

When her fingers started to wander lightly over his feverish flesh, causing him to twitch in her hands, he quickly put his hand over hers again to stop her. Her eyes darted up to his, and she saw little beads of perspiration appear on his forehead. He shook his head in a barely perceptible move. "Not the right moment," he managed in a very breathless voice, and she understood and released him immediately, even if reluctantly.

He kicked off his pants along with his boots and sat again beside her on the bed. His hand immediately returned to the back of her neck, fingers entangling in her hair, and he claimed her mouth for more deep kisses that made her head spin, literally pillaging her. Emma had difficulties holding herself upright in her half-sitting position, the overload of desire causing her body to sway. Feeling her reaction, Hook let his mouth wander in a fiery path from her lips along her jaw line, using his scruff to graze the side of her throat and drive her nearly insane. When he reached the curve of her jaw, his wanton tongue darted out and licked over her earlobe before he purred, "Lay back, lass."

With a sigh, Emma let herself sink back onto the pillow. He tilted his head and smiled down at her before he slid to the foot of the bed and slowly traced the cool metal of his hook down over her stomach, then achingly slowly over her pubic mound, still covered by her lace-trimmed white panties. Moaning softly, Emma curved her back and arched her hips upwards in an instinctive move; she felt all her juices flow abundantly.

"I like the knickers in this realm," he commented in a raucous voice thick with arousal. Chuckling devilishly he teased; "White and innocent, and yet so sinful."

Emma was breathing heavily by now, her hands clasping the sheet. "Hook..." she panted, and it was almost a plea.

She felt more than she saw – because her vision was fogged somehow – that he used his hook very carefully to pull her panties down over her legs, leaving her completely naked and exposed to his intense, blue scrutiny. When he saw her there before him, bare of the last barrier, he was nothing less than filled with awe – about her beauty, her openness and her courage. He knew he was just about to witness Emma Swan's final leap of faith, and that leap carried her right into his arms.

"Emma Swan, I swear by God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my long life," he told her, voice thick with raw honesty. "Every inch of you deserves to be thoroughly worshipped and _will_ be..." he swallowed and went on in an almost apologetic tone: "...but right now, I just have to have you."

She smiled and reached out for him with both arms. "Then take me already," she replied in a crystal clear voice. "I'm yours."

Hook knelt between her legs, nudging them open a little, and grabbed her left knee with his hand. Catching her other knee with his hook, he pulled her towards him in a quick, almost brusque move that made her gasp. He covered her body with his and said almost solemnly, "You are now."

For a moment, he lingered at her entrance, grazing his tip over her waiting core, rejoicing in the delightfully obvious proof of how ready she was for him. His eyes locked with hers and, studying her closely, he entered her deliberately slowly, watching those jade eyes he adored grow darker, and her lips curve into an almost unbelieving, ecstatic smile as she felt him fill her so neatly and completely. Then, _finally,_ he buried himself inside her with one single push of his hips, causing her to let out a little cry. Hearing her, he held back and looked at her with a question in his eyes, but Emma wrapped her arms only closer around his body and opened her eyes wide. "Move now," she panted, "please."

He happily obliged and allowed himself to finally let go of his passion completely, not holding back any longer; he knew he didn't have to. He wasn't surprised at all to find that their bodies matched perfectly, like they were made for each other – which he believed they actually were. They found their rhythm together easily with his very first thrust as if they'd been doing this breathless dance together for years. They moved in perfect, beautiful sync, faster and faster, as their long pent-up passion carried them away, until neither of them could think anymore.

They were sighing, moaning, panting each other's name, along with those meaningless sounds lovers make during their wildest, most uninhibited moments. Emma felt like she'd gone to heaven, finally unburdened and free. If she hadn't been aware of the weight of Hook's body pressing her into the mattress and holding her in place like a safe anchor, she would've thought she was flying; a sensation that normally would've scared her, but here, with him, there was nothing anymore that could scare her because she knew she was finally safe and home. She felt a tingling start at her toes and wrapped her legs tighter around his hips, craving more closeness, _more_... not getting enough of him, not now, not _ever_.

Emma's eyes were closed. Head thrown back onto the pillow and lips slightly parted, she murmured words only she understood, completely lost in their passion. Hook paused for a moment inside her to bend his head down and shower the side of her throat with burning kisses, grazing her sensitive skin with his teeth and his scruff. She moaned and arched her body even more into his, partly because her neck was obviously one big erogenous zone, partly because she was almost desperately urging him to continue; he could tell that from the way she wrapped her thighs so tightly around his hips and lifted hers upwards impatiently. He smiled against her feverish skin and started to move again, and when her nails dug into his back and her sighs became louder and more urgent, pleading almost, he knew she was close, so very close. He increased his pace and force and could feel by the way her whole body was tensing and her core was starting to clench around him that she was about to fall apart.

He scrutinized her closely with intense, incredulous eyes full of wonder. She'd never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment of complete and utter vulnerability and devotion, letting go of everything that had ever held her back from being her true self and being happy. All her walls were down, her heart and her soul laid bare to him just as her body was. He wanted nothing more than to spill out his heart to her and tell her how much he loved her, but then he held the words back. Emma Swan might need time before she would be able to handle _that_.

Instead, he just softly urged, "Emma... look at me..."

She opened her eyes and gasped incoherently, "Killian... I... I can't..." _Hold back,_ he knew she meant.

"Don't," he replied breathlessly. "Let go for me... don't be afraid... I've got you."

She smiled her angelic smile he loved so much then let herself fall completely and utterly, and he caught her, just like he promised. He had enough time to hold her close to him until her shuddering slowly subsided before he allowed himself to lose control and finally find his own long-desired release inside the woman he'd loved for quite awhile, calling out her name.

For a long moment, neither was able to move; they just lay still, eyes closed at first, with him still inside her and his forehead resting on hers. They listened to their slowly decelerating heartbeats and the softening of their heavy breathing. Finally, Emma opened her eyes again just to find his right before her, watching her come back down to earth. Hook smiled his lopsided smile and was happy to see the radiant expression on her face. If he'd been afraid in the slightest that there was a chance she might regret what had happened, the look on her face was all he needed to sweep all worries away. He gently pushed a lock of hair away from her face and waited for her to speak.

She moistened her lips, somewhat surprised at how incredibly dry they were. Her head was still dizzy and her body still hummed all over from the sensual explosion she'd just experienced. Still a little breathless, she started speaking; "That was..." but her voice trailed off. She had no words, and he saw how she literally couldn't handle it yet.

"You'd better _not_ tell me it was a one-time thing," he teased, and that helped her regain her ability to form coherent thoughts because that teasing felt so much like home.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she replied with a smile.

Hook nodded. "Good. Because this time I'm not letting you get away." He gently slid out of her and to her right side, propped up on his left elbow with his hook resting on the pillow beside her head. His last statement had obviously pleased her – her smile told him that – and once more he was amazed at how at ease she seemed with their new found intimacy. This woman obviously regretted nothing. He started lazily painting patterns between her breasts with his fingertips. "But where are my manners," he went on almost casually. "I interrupted you, love." Emma frowned up at him questioningly, and he smirked. "That _was_...?" he prodded with a raised eyebrow.

Emma rolled her eyes, refusing to feed into his ego. Smirking, he offered: "Earth-shattering? Like a tempest? Heavenly?" He waved his hand invitingly. "Don't hold back, love."

She shook her head and grinned at him. "I'm glad to see you're still the same pretentious loudmouth as ever, pirate," she replied dryly.

As a response, the circles he was drawing on her chest grew larger and he let his index finger trail around her right breast. _That bastard!_ He noticed with delight that she started to shiver under his touch. "Look me in the eyes, Swan, and tell me it's not true," he challenged.

She didn't find the energy to slap his hand away. "There's no need to brag, Hook," she told him. "It's not like you didn't lose your composure yourself..."

He chuckled. "Aye, but I recover fast..."

Emma propped herself up on her right elbow, their fronts now facing each other as his hand easily slid to rest on her back. Her eyes darted to his mid-section and she saw what he meant by _recover_. Still not used to that kind of intimacy – but she would get there soon – she blushed a little and looked away with an almost coy little smile that threatened to blow his already rebooting fuses completely.

"Why am I not surprised?" she murmured.

He snorted out a self-satisfied little laugh. "Because you know me almost as well as I know you, Swan," he replied with his trademark grin.

She raised her eyebrows. "Almost?" she echoed.

"I might still have a few..." – he paused to roll his tongue through his mouth more than suggestively and tilted his head – "..._surprises_ for you."

Emma smiled and shook her head at him. There he was, the pirate captain, humble and decent as always. God, how he'd driven her crazy in the beginning, and _God_, how he was still driving her crazy now, but in the best, the irresistible way. She knew he was _exactly_ the way she wanted him. Ignoring his smug grin, she moved closer to him and snuggled into his chest – much to his delight – and wrapped her left arm around his waist. "Did you ever doubt we would end up like this?" she asked and tilted her head back to look at him.

"Like what?" he teased with glittering eyes. "Dirty, sore and worn out? And how is that new?"

She chuckled and slapped his muscular back. "You know what I mean, Hook."

"Oh, that..." He let his fingers run up and down her spine, causing her to shiver and squirm against him. "Did I doubt it?" He swayed his head from one side to the other, pretending to contemplate her question, then he smiled one of his precious, sincere little smiles at her that always allowed her a glimpse of the true Killian Jones beneath the scoundrel attire. "Every day," he replied honestly and let one of her locks run through his fingers, "but then..." – he pursed his lips and shook his head – "..._never_."

She smiled and nodded at his statement. It sounded absurd but was also so very accurate. "You must be the most persistent man I've ever met."

His eyebrows twitched as he cocked his head. "Well, I had long enough of a lifetime to develop that particular quality... among others," he added with a wicked grin and pulled her a little closer, just enough for her to notice which _other_ quality he was referring to... as if she needed reminding.

"We'll see about that," she teased back and suddenly brought her left hand to his shoulder and gave him a firm push. With a surprised gasp, he slumped down on his back. Her lips quirked into a pleased smile and she swung her left leg over Hook's body, trapping him.

"And exactly what do you think you're doing, Swan?" he asked, although the way she was slowly moving her thigh over his groin gave him an inkling of her intentions. He was more than thrilled about her playfulness and barely managed to keep a nonchalant face. With a swift move, she swung her lean body over to lie on top of him, her face only inches before his. Her hair fell down around their faces like a golden curtain and she grinned, immensely enjoying the power she held over him in this position. She could clearly read on his face how much he was at her mercy right now… how much he knew it, too.

With the devil in her eyes she leaned closer and whispered in his ear; "Lay back and you'll see what enjoyable activities_ I_ can do with a _man_ on his back..."

Hook's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened, an almost incredulous grin splitting his face. Hearing Emma throw back his own naughty line at him was bloody amazing; that she hadn't forgotten it even more so. She positioned herself right above him. Then, with a light guiding touch of her hand, she guided him into her once more. He glided into her slickness easily; he wasn't the only one ready for a reprise.

Emma started to move slowly, rotating her hips like a belly dancer in slow motion. She was thrilled beyond delight to see her dreaded pirate literally lose it. As soon as he picked up her rhythm, he ran his hand up her thigh and let it wander further up until he cupped her left breast, squeezing it ever-so-lightly.

"You are a true siren, Swan," he told her hoarsely, breathlessly, and ran his ringed thumb over the erect peak. She arched her spine and threw back her head, resting her weight on his strong thighs and completely lost in her lap-dance love play. Her eyes were closed and her long curls cascaded down until they covered her hands, gripping the taut muscles of his legs. When he felt her need and her moves intensify and grow quicker, he put his hand and hook to her hips and held her firmly, going with her increasing rhythm of rising and falling, pushing firmly upwards when her body fell down on his. After a few well-placed thrusts he felt her shatter and crumble around and on top of him and reached for her waist with his hook and his hand, carefully pulling her off of him before she even had the chance to come back to her senses again.

For a moment, she blinked with slight confusion, still hearing the blood rush in her ears. He rose to his knees surprisingly quickly, kneeling behind her, and wrapped his right arm tightly around her waist to steady her. He kissed the back of her neck and brought his hot lips to her ear.

"Very impressive, Swan," he murmured in a deep voice and let the sharp tip of his hook graze over her ribcage – the steel had adopted the warm temperature of her body now, and the sensation proved to be beyond description. He pulled her back closely to his front and rasped into her ear, "But I'm not done with you yet..."

He ushered her a little forward towards the wall, and Emma gasped when she understood what he was doing. Still in a state of dizziness, she followed his lead, bent a little forward and put her hands on the headboard. He smoothed out her hair and let his hand run down over her spine, followed by kisses on her feverish skin. "That's a good girl," he purred in a low voice. "Hold on tight, lass..."

Placing his hand and hook on her hips again, he positioned himself behind her and nudged her legs a little more open with his knees. Right as he entered her again – and her ability to form coherent thoughts faded from existence once more – she remembered a line she'd probably read on some stupid bumper sticker: "A good man breaks your headboard, not your heart." Now this was not _her_ headboard, and it wasn't really breaking, but from the rattling sounds it made it looked like it was pretty close to falling to pieces, just like she was – _again_.

Emma's head was spinning, and so was Hook's, and he was almost relieved to feel that the tension inside her was building up again fast because he surely wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. His pace and forcefulness became frantic, and when he felt that they'd both reached the point of no return, he simply stopped moving, bent down over her and reached around her mid with his right arm, pulling her into an upright position with him with her back pressed closely to his front. His hand slid up over her sweat-covered body and came to lay between her breasts, his ringed fingers spread widely, feeling her heart hammering madly against her sternum as though he held it right in his palm.

"Killian..." she sighed almost tonelessly.

"Emma..." he breathed into her ear, "together, my love..."

With that, she let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder, her cheek against his and her arms clutching his forearm as she pressed his palm to her heart. No more nearness was possible now – not physical and not emotional. Neither of them moved; they just swayed a little when they let the wave of their shared climax wash over them like a flood and carry them away into oblivion.

Completely exhausted, they fell back on the mattress and for a few moments just lay there, trying to get back to their senses again. Hook was the first to regain the ability to move, while Emma's breath still hadn't slowed down enough. She lay there, blissfully sated, listening to the blood rushing in her ears. Hook pulled the sheets over them both to cover their still entangled bodies before the sweat on their skin could dry and turn tingles of pleasure into genuine shivers. He was leaning again on his left elbow, the hook resting on the pillow above her head. _Time for you to take a leap of faith yourself, mate,_ he thought; _she is your tough lass, she can handle it._ He tucked her in like a child and threw her his heart-stopping grin, and she half expected some mocking, smug remark. This was so unfair, because she knew she wasn't in shape for an adapt reply yet.

But instead, he just studied her still flushed face as if he wanted to ingrain every feature of hers forever in his memory. Then, tilting his head to look upon her, he simply said, "I love you, Emma Swan." _Deal with it._

With wide green eyes she gaped at him, still too overwhelmed to speak. What had just happened had been an amazing act of scorching passion – well more than _one, _to be specific – but also so much more than just a physical union. It had been the final, secretly long-desired and much needed ultimate connection of two soul mates, nothing less. _Lovers_. With a clarity that was so crystal sharp that it almost hurt, Emma Swan realized there and then that she was looking up into the mesmerizing eyes of her One True Love, and yes, she almost couldn't handle it. _Almost._ No, she wasn't going to shy back from it… she was done with that. By now, she was completely open and finally ready to _embrace_ it; but right now it was just overwhelming and it choked her. She opened her mouth and tried to say it. She wanted, maybe _needed_ to say it, helplessly struggling with the words that were so clear in her mind but so hard to let out.

Hook just smiled down at her and wiped a tiny droplet of sweat from her forehead, smoothed out her still damp hair and said, "'S alright, love. Sleep now." Damn him, he _knew_._ Open book. _Emma felt hot tears sting in the corners of her eyes, but he wasn't going to let her cry. He was going to make it easy for her, of course, as usual. He kissed her on the top of her head and added in his mocking tone; "That's an order from your Captain, Swan. And we both know you like taking them."

She kept staring at him with an incredulous look, but he just stretched his long body out beside hers and reached for the light switch on the night stand and the room plunged into darkness. Emma slipped into his embrace immediately, draping her left arm over his chest and her leg over his, capturing him like an octopus and wanting to make sure he stayed right where he was. But she knew he wouldn't be going anywhere. They were both home. She nestled her head in the nook between his jaw and his shoulder where it fit so neatly like it belonged there, and within two minutes, she was asleep… the echo of three little words still floating in her ears.

* * *

So, that's that... was it how you imagined it? Let me know what you think. Was it a mistake that Hook has opened his heart to Emma, and will she be able to reciprocate? They have still a long way ahead, and I'd be happy if you join them. As usual, reviews are the wind beneath the writer's wings ;)

This time, I have to think my editor _**emeraldromance** _even more than usual - with her awesome touch she made these special moments even more special - and all that in spite of her packed days and neglecting her own writing.

To my muse **_Silvia_ **- bouncing off ideas and your feedback make it all so much easier. Grazie, buona fatina!


	4. There's Only One Rule

Sorry it took me so long to update this time, but real life got in the way of fiction, and this story deserves not to be rushed. Thanks to those who stay aboard, and especially to those who review.

So, at the end of the previous chapter we left Emma and Hook on the verge of falling asleep, exhausted in a good way, with the echo of three little words floating through the air, uttered by our cutthroat pirate. Will Emma be able to handle that? Will she say them back any time soon? Find out.

_**Chapter 4:**_

_**There's Only One Rule**_

Like every morning, Hook woke up at seven come hell or high water. The moment he opened his eyes and came to his senses, a huge silly grin split his face when he felt Emma's hand draped on his bare stomach. Her head was resting on his chest, her silky locks tickling the side of his neck. This wasn't a dream or a hallucination, it was real. She was his, and he was really and truly and irrevocably hers; the past twenty-four hours had changed his life forever.

Carefully, _very_ carefully he slipped out from underneath her. She stirred lightly in her sleep, snuggling into the pillow and wrapping her arm around it as if seeking his warmth. Totally mesmerized, he watched her calm breathing and took his time to let his gaze sweep over her sleeping figure. She looked completely relaxed with slightly parted lips that were curved into the tiniest of smiles. He loved the thought that he'd helped put it there._ Never thought I'd see one of those. _An equally slight smile was shining on his own features as he carefully smoothed her hair out of her face; it had fallen over her rosy cheeks. When he stroked it back, his eyes fell on a faint rash at the side of her neck where his scruff had obviously grazed her delicate skin once too often, and he gently touched it with two fingers.

"Sorry, love," he murmured, and she sighed in her sleep. Determined to let her rest, he left the bed and pulled the sheets over her shoulders before heading into the bathroom.

A little while later, Emma gently slipped from dreaming into consciousness, her eyes still closed and a contented smile gracing her lips. Hook's hoarse voice still echoed in her thoughts: _I love you, Emma, _only, she was pretty certain it hadn't been a dream. She murmured his name and reached across the soft sheets, freezing when her hand met a cool pillow instead of him. Her eyes flew open, any sleepiness vanishing in an instant. Bolting upright, she cried, "Hook?"

But the bed was empty and so was the room. Out of nowhere, an irrational panic gripped her – this was like an awful kind of déjà-vû, and the well-known, dreaded feeling of having been left _alone_ after having hoped she finally was _not_ any longer clenched her chest almost painfully. Her eyes darted around the room, however, and she saw his leather coat lying in a crumpled heap on the floor where he'd carelessly let it fall the night before. He wouldn't go anywhere without his coat, would he?

Emma hastily swung her long legs out of the bed and got up, wrapping the sheet around her and scanning the floor with expert eyes. The rest of his clothes were there, too, and she laughed nervously at herself and shook her head. That had been really stupid.

She quickly went around the bed and threw the door to the bathroom open, and there he was, standing in front of the small mirror above the sink with his back to her. He was naked, his wet hair sticking out in every direction and naught but a distractingly small towel slung carelessly around his hips; drops of water still clung to his muscular back. "You're here!" she exclaimed.

Hook had been "shaving" with a huge knife she'd never before seen on him; well, he was not _really_ shaving, just scraping a bit at his scruff to keep it in form. At the loud _bang_ of the door he jumped in shock and cut himself at the side of his throat; blood trickled out immediately.

"Bloody hell, Swan!" he huffed. "Has no one ever taught you that it's bad form to scare a man who has a _blade_ at someone's throat, especially so if it's his own?!" He put the knife down, touched the cut with his fingers, then turned around to her and frowned. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?!" He looked at his index finger then put it in his mouth to suck at the blood.

Although she didn't want to admit it, the earlier shock of finding the bed beside her empty was still reverberating in her head, and her absurd relief to see he was still there, added on top. Without thinking she blurted out, "Gone?"

"_What?!_" he snapped. Emma blinked once, twice when she realized what she'd just said. She mentally slapped the back of her head. Of course Hook realized what had been going through her head and he felt an involuntary pang of anger at her suspiciousness; his hand sank down, his eyebrows shot up, and he growled: "Really, Swan?"

She raised one hand in an apologetic gesture, realizing with a pang of pain in her own heart that she'd hurt him probably more than ever before, albeit unintentionally – she knew he of all people would not go anywhere. He'd never left her side since he'd decided to become her ever-present shadow. "Forget what I said. I'm still half-asleep," she urged and waved her hand in front of her face to indicate her confusion. "I'm still kind of..." Without waiting for her to finish, Hook turned away from her and grabbed a towel to dab at his cut, not saying a word and not looking at her. In the mirror she could see that his jaw clenched, the only thing that indicated his anger. Incredibly annoyed with herself, Emma took a step nearer. "I'm sorry," she said simply and clearly.

He turned around slowly and looked at her with piercing eyes, their blue as deep as the sea. "You should be," he replied quietly; his voice wasn't loud, but she could nevertheless hear how upset he was by the way his accent shone through more than usual – when he said _"be"_ it sounded like _"bay"_. Then he turned to the sink again and opened the water faucet to wet the towel.

_You screwed that up fine,_ Emma thought ruefully to herself. Carefully, she stepped closer until she was standing right behind him and tentatively wrapped her left arm around Hook's waist. Her fingers brushed lightly over his stomach as if she were afraid he might back off, or worse, push her away. But of course he did nothing of the sort. She rested her cheek against his scarred right shoulder blade and said quietly; "I don't know how that feels... to have others putting me first." She drew a deep breath and added; "People not leaving me." She shrugged. "It's not easy getting used to it."

Hook threw the towel in the sink and turned around again so that her arm slipped onto his back. Emma had to tilt her head a little to look up at him. His eyes were still fierce, but the earlier anger had left them and was replaced by something else: a wild determination. He angled his head. "Well, I'll just have to help you get used to it," he told her firmly. "I'm not going anywhere."

His anger evaporated as quickly as it welled up; in fact, he felt nothing but regret and compassion for his Swan – tough as his lass was, she had been nothing but a lost girl for such a long time that indeed she would have to get used to being loved, wanted and cherished. He made a secret vow that he would teach her how that felt, even if it took him the next three hundred years.

Emma saw the change in his demeanor and for a moment, she closed her eyes in relief. Like always, he understood what haunted her and offered to have her back. _Putting her first._ He had done that before as her friend, and now, as her lover he would move heaven and earth to make her happy. She tried an apologetic little smile; she would have to get used to that, too. "Forgive me?"

But to her surprise, he took a step back, out of her embracing arm. _"Go away."_

She frowned in confusion. "But..."

Hook abruptly turned his back on her again, and then suddenly, in the mirror, she was thrilled to see his wicked grin emerge. He motioned his head to the shower stall. "You need a bath, filthy girl."

After a moment of surprise, Emma grinned, too. "Well, too bad..."

He turned his eyes to her in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She shrugged. "That you're already clean. You could have..." – she looked him up and down in a deliberately lewd way, giving a perfect imitation of himself – "...joined me." She unwrapped the sheet from her body, dropped it to the floor then sauntered over to the shower stall while making sure she had that extra sway in her hips. Two could play this game.

Hook rolled his tongue over the inside of his bottom lip and murmured, "That can be arranged..."

His towel also fell to the floor without further preliminaries, and he slipped into the shower right after she turned the water on. She had just enough time to turn around and face him in eager anticipation before he grabbed her around the waist in a swift move and backed her against the wall of the shower stall. Automatically and with a little gasp, she held on to his shoulders and enjoyed the feeling of being trapped between the cold tiles and his hard body that seemed to emanate a feverish heat. His lips were almost touching hers, and his eyes had that devilish spark again while he ran his hand from her waist over her backside where he let it rest, his left arm still wrapped around her and holding her firmly in place.

"So, you lured me in here, Milady," he murmured against her mouth in his damnable _pirate_ voice, "now tell me, what shall I do with you?"

Her back arched almost with a will of its own, pressing her body even closer into his. Every nerve in her body seemed to thrum with desire already. "Whatever you please, Captain," she replied breathlessly.

Hook smirked. "That's a good girl."

He pressed his lips to hers and her arms slid around his neck, pulling him in even closer, entangling her fingers in his hair. Emma's legs seemed to be turning to rubber, a sensation that was becoming familiar to her while in his presence, and she got completely lost in their kiss again, reveling in the feeling of his mouth on hers. His lips and tongue were doing things to her that she only had got a faint inkling about back in Neverland; but now… _now_ she knew that kissing him was like a drug, like tasting a forbidden fruit: the more she got, the more she wanted it, craved it, _needed_ it. Just when she thought she would never be able to breathe again, his lips left hers, and he kissed and nibbled a fiery path from her mouth over her jawbone and down her throat. A deep sigh escaped her, and she felt him chuckle against her skin.

His left arm moved a little up her back, and suddenly she felt strange, new sensation. Only now did she realize what was missing: his hook was off; she hadn't even noticed that before. Somehow, he'd sensed the subtle change in her posture and lifted his head, looking up at her with a question in his eyes. "What is it, love?"

Emma disentangled her right hand from his hair and ran it down his left arm, pulling it out from behind her. He saw what she was doing and lessened a bit the pressure of his body against hers to give her room and to show her that he was okay with it. She lifted his arm gently in careful perusal. She was surprised at how neat and smooth the surface of the little curve where his left arm ended actually looked. She'd expected more scar tissue. _The bite of the crocodile has been very neat_, she thought with a touch of anger and also sadness.

Hook was a little anxious about her reaction – about her seeing his physical flaw for the first time – but he tried to play it nonchalantly in order to keep any possible awkwardness away. "I'm damaged goods," he commented dryly.

"Who isn't?" she replied firmly and ran her fingertips ever-so-lightly, almost tenderly over the curve of his stump. "Wearing the hook... does it hurt?" she wanted to know.

He was relieved, even happy to see that she obviously didn't have any qualms addressing that particular subject; obviously, she found it quite natural and not awkward at all. But then, that shouldn't really have surprised him. He held still and allowed her to touch it, carefully explore it, tenderly caress it while the warm water was raining down on them. "No," he replied, "not anymore. The hook has been a part of me for almost longer than I can remember." He shrugged. "I feel sort of incomplete without it."

Emma ran her fingertips from his missing wrist to his elbow and back again, her touch as light as a feather. "You hardly ever take it off, don't you?"

"When I sleep, I mostly do." He tilted his head. "When there's no impending danger that might require immediate attention, that is."

She couldn't get enough of his answers, happy that he was willing to share this very personal part with her. She wanted to get to know him, everything about him, like she knew herself. _Better_ than she knew herself. Yes, by now she knew him almost as well as he knew her, but she also knew there were still blank spots on his black vest; things that had hurt him, angered him, changed him – made him the man he was today, the man she loved. "Do you ever miss your hand?" she asked.

He looked down at his stump and then nodded thoughtfully. "Last night I did," he told her and ran his good hand from where it still rested on her hip over her side, her stomach and up between her breasts. She looked down at his hand that lingered over her heart now for a moment before it made its way up to her neck, cupping the left side of her throat and gently caressing her jaw with his thumb. She leaned into his palm and looked in his incredible eyes, waiting for him to continue. "Had I had both my hands," he went on in a slightly croaky voice sprinkled with regret, "I could have felt you more..." he tilted his head, "...made you feel more."

Emma smiled and shook her head. "Believe me; you couldn't possibly have made me feel any more. It was perfect." She put both her hands to his face and leaned a little forward to make sure she had his full attention. "_You_ were perfect." She knew she'd chosen the right words when she saw his expression change from one melancholy into delight again as he nodded slowly. She noticed the glint of mischief dancing in his eyes and closed hers with a playful sigh. "And something makes me think I'm gonna regret what I just said."

She felt him shift, his hand still at her throat, and when she opened her eyes again, his face was only inches apart from hers. He smirked, brought his lips to her ear and purred; "If you're seriously telling me I can't make you feel any more, love, consider it..." he looked her deep in the eyes and breathed against her lips, "... _done_." She shivered at his promise, and he added with a devilish grin: "Told you I love a challenge."

And with that, he pressed his body into hers again and lowered his lips onto hers, exploring, devouring, thoroughly taking possession of her mouth again, his tongue so fierce and gentle at the same time that her head started to spin; a familiar sensation by now. Slowly, his hand wandered down from her throat, glided over her breast and her side – her now completely wet body – and followed the curve of her hip. Emma sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning his kisses with an equal amount of fire. She was surprised for a moment to feel him lessen the pressure of his body onto hers a bit, but then his purpose became clear when she felt his hand slide from her hip between their bodies, easily finding its destination, tenderly, teasingly stroking over her pubic mound, cupping it with his palm.

She shivered under his touch and automatically pushed her hips forward and parted her thighs in invitation and to intensify the contact. She moaned against his lips when his fingers started to move and flutter, playing over and inside her once more aching core like he was playing a fine instrument – teasing, exploring, _conquering_. Suddenly, he broke the contact of their mouths and left her breathless and confused; Emma opened her eyes to look at him questioningly, almost with a complaint about him breaking their kiss. Hook was scrutinizing her with adoration, but at the same time the devil was lurking in the corners of his eyes when he lifted his hand between their faces and slowly put his index finger into his mouth, sucking it deliberately, wantonly, never taking his intense gaze off her. She stared at him with an open mouthed expression, the shameless sensuality of his gesture simply taking her breath away.

"You taste like honey, love," he purred and winked at her. "Worshipping time now."

He brought his mouth once more to the side of her throat, directly over that spot where her jugular vein was visibly twitching in the rhythm of her madly throbbing pulse. He tugged at the sensitive skin with his teeth, making her draw in a sharp breath, and sucked just hard enough to make it sting deliciously but not leave a mark. Then he slowly glided down along the length of her body, kissing and nibbling his way over her collarbone and down her chest, taking a little detour to linger over her left breast just long enough to coax a tender sigh from her throat before he continued his sensual journey downward and finally sank to his knees.

He took his time, lazily placing soft kisses down her stomach, the sensation of his scruff grazing the highly sensitive skin right above her pubic bone and making her writhe. He slid his hand up her side, fingers widely spread, resting it firmly on her ribcage right beneath her left breast. Holding her in place, he murmured: "Stay still, love."

Emma tried her best, but it was impossible to remain immobile under his skilled ministrations. By then he was done with the teasing and headed to his destination without further delay. She looked down at him with wide eyes and tried to brace herself for the ultimate assault on her already tingling nerve endings, not really knowing what to expect when he lowered his mouth onto her center. Although she saw it coming and although she had experienced that kind of intimate touch before – even if she'd never been a huge fan of it – _nothing_ could ever have prepared her for this. What Hook's tongue and lips did to her evoked feelings so intense it almost blew her mind. She felt the urge to sink down on her knees – so shaky were her legs – and the burning, tingling sensation sent shock waves from her core into every nerve ending, even making her toes curl.

Yes, she had engaged in that kind of activity before, but if she was honest, part of her had always felt a little uncomfortable with it because it meant literally opening up to her very core, almost turning her inside out, and she felt at her most vulnerable in those moments. Here, with Hook, she felt nothing of the sort; all she felt was pure bliss and the utter, flooring certainty that she was safe with him. Not to mention the red hot, blatant explosion of sheer lust that had her nearly faint the second his devil tongue touched her most sensitive bundle of nerves.

How had she never felt any of this before? she wondered; but then, the answer was really obvious, and she heard once more his voice in her head: _There's only one rule: pick a partner who knows what he's doing._ And, _God help her_, that man _definitely_ knew what he was doing.

The warm water rained down on him, pouring over his back and streaming over his face. He wasn't paying attention to it or maybe it just wasn't bothering him while he indeed _worshipped_ her; there simply wasn't another word for what he was going to her. Emma placed her right hand on his inclined head, grabbing a fistful of his raven hair – it lacked its usual auburn highlights, soaked as it was. His hand cupped her left breast, evoking more pleasure, and when she quickly glanced down at it she noticed that for the first time since she knew him, his hand was bare of his trademark rings. But then her vision was fogged by the irresistible urge to close her eyes and throw her head back, eliminating all her other senses and letting herself be overwhelmed by the ecstasy vibrating through her whole body.

When she felt the tingling running down her spine and up her legs, all rays of pleasure meeting and concentrating in the center of her being, she knew there was no use in trying to hold anything back. For once, she let herself completely fall apart, her limbs trembling, her moans echoing from the walls of the shower stall and she didn't give a damn who might hear them.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still; no sound was to be heard expect for the constant murmuring of the water and the rushing of the blood in her ears. When she finally mustered enough energy to open her eyes again, she found that Hook's face was once more directly before hers, merely inches apart. He'd risen to his feet and was studying her face intently, obviously pleased by what he saw there. The fine lines around his incredible sea blue eyes crinkled and his right eyebrow rose the tiniest bit.

"You were right, love," he finally said in that dark, rich timbre of his voice that spoke directly to Emma's baser nature.

"About what?" she panted, still breathing heavily.

He cocked his head, looked at her from beneath his decadent lashes, and his full lips twitched into a barely perceptible, yet unspeakably sinful smirk, followed by a deliberate, thorough stroke of his profligate tongue over his bottom lip. "_This_ task indeed didn't require the vantage of having a second hand," he purred in a deeply satisfied tone.

His words from earlier reverberated in her head: _Consider it... done._ Damn, he had lived up to yet another promise. Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, and she tasted herself on his lips; now this was a sensation she'd never experienced before, and she couldn't believe how highly erotic she found it.

When their lips parted again, Emma couldn't help but grin widely at him. "Told you so," she replied playfully and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close and demanding another kiss which he freely and eagerly granted. Quickly, their kissing intensified again; her hands combed through his hair as her teeth tugged at his lower lip. Hook's right arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her close into his hard body while his left elbow and remaining forearm rested against the wall, steadying them.

In spite of just having experienced an incredibly intense climax, Emma craved the ultimate connection again, needing to feel him inside her. She rolled her hips against his, trying to bring her core in contact with his hardness and wordlessly urging him to take possession of her. Sensing her urgency with delight, Hook lifted her left thigh with a firm grip at her knee and wrapped it around his hips, thrusting into her without further preliminaries. She gasped in a deep breath and ran her hands down his back, cupping his muscular backside and pulling him closer, pushing him even deeper inside. Hook felt that her hunger went far beyond being only a physical one and was only too willing to follow her demands.

Weirdly enough, Emma didn't feel the need to close her eyes this time. She needed to be connected to him on every level; their stares locked, and while they were moving steadily together, they never turned their gaze from one another, drowning in their shared passion and intense emotions. Hook's lips were slightly parted and their corners curved into an almost unbelieving, adoring smile which mirrored Emma's. The happiness emanating from them was nearly palpable in the steamy air.

_I love you,_ she thought, _Oh God, I love you._ And she saw again in his eyes what she'd seen the night before when he'd uttered those three words to her and she'd been too choked up to reply, even though she'd desperately wanted to. _He knew._ He had to know. And again, he was far from demanding anything from her. That realization made her feel so free and safe like she'd never felt before.

Hook leaned his forehead to hers, their eyes still locked, and they both found their release – once again together. Neither of them uttered a word or a sound. They could see the exact same moment shining in each other's eyes, a connection of souls, and it was the most intimate moment either of them had ever experienced.

After a few seconds, he lightened his grip on her leg and let it slowly, carefully glide down, making sure she was standing securely on her two feet.

"Careful, love. You're trembling," he murmured, his voice bare of any smugness this time; more than anything it was full of wonder and thick with emotions.

Emma swallowed twice and replied, "So are you."

Hook treated her to one of his special Killian smiles and brushed his lips tenderly across her temple. "Finish your bath, Swan," he told her in a teasing tone. "If you continue using up all the water, even _my_ charms might fail to pacify the landlady."

With that, he stepped out of the shower stall, leaving her there alone feeling sated, breathless, and with emotions tugging so heavily at her heart that she felt grounded and safe as if she were able to sail through the stormiest of weathers without ever getting lost again. _I love him,_ she thought once more, and suddenly she felt the need to _say_ the words… knew for certain that she _would_ do so soon. For the moment, though, she was content to keep them to herself, secretly and thoroughly reveling in them and the happiness they evoked, savoring them in her own heart and mind before she would finally share them.

Five minutes later, Emma left the shower and slipped into a fluffy white bathrobe she found hanging on the back of the door. Hook had left the bathroom, so again she went looking for him – not out of panic this time, but simply out of the instinct of new love… the desire to look for the nearness of her new-found significant other, having not gotten her fill of seeing, hearing, or smelling him. She found him in his room, already clad in his black leather pants and, with his back turned to her, rummaging in his closet. For a moment, she allowed herself to admire the sight of his backside in those damn tight pants and the way the muscles of his bare back twitched while he moved. The urge to run her fingers over the scars on his shoulder blade and explore the numerous others that decorated his otherwise perfect body was almost irrepressible. She blushed at the sight of several fresh red marks marring his skin, knowing she was to blame for their appearance.

"I'm still here, and I'm still not going anywhere, Swan," he commented without turning around, and she could hear the mix of slightly self-satisfied amusement and honest emotion in his voice. When he finally faced her, he grinned with a boyish, yet devilish joy, seeing her eyes widen involuntarily at the glorious sight of his bare chest. "And it's bad form to sneak in and stare at an unsuspecting man like that," he added, waving his hand at her. In an almost challenging way, he let the black linen shirt he'd just pulled out of the closet dangle from his gleaming hook.

"Since when are you so coy?" she teased back.

Hook threw the shirt on the bed and sauntered over to her, making sure to put an extra swagger in his step. Emma fastened her eyes on his face and managed only with sheer willpower not to drool. He stopped right in front of her – in the middle of her personal space – and smiled, his eyes sparkling.

"Believe me, I'm anything but that," he replied in his lewd pirate voice, "but as much as your obvious veneration flatters me and I'd love to keep you..." he paused a second to let his tongue dart out and moisten his lips, "..._immured_ here for the rest of forever, I know you'll be wanting to get back to your own place." He lifted the fluffy hood of the bathrobe with his hook and his hand and put it on her wet hair, carefully smoothing it out in a perfect imitation of his gallant gesture back in the Enchanted Forest when he'd helped her cover herself up in those 'borrowed' clothes. "And you should," he added softly. "I wouldn't want to tarnish the credit I've only recently earned with your parents."

Emma smiled. "I have an inkling you won't," she told him, "but you're right. I can't disappear forever." She stood on the balls of her feet for a moment and stole a quick kiss from him. "Although I wouldn't mind being... _immured_ some other time." She enjoyed the effect of her words on him – he seemed almost elated – and started for the bathroom with a regretful sigh. Her hair wouldn't dry itself, after all.

Fifteen minutes later, they were both fully dressed and ready to leave. When Hook asked her if she cared for breakfast, she replied with a cat-like smirk: "I'm completely... _sated_."

He threw his head back with a wonderful, almost roaring laugh she hadn't heard often from him and replied, "Are you trying to beat me in my very own game, Swan? Now this is _really_ where the fun begins."

They left Granny's through the side entrance, and for one moment Emma was reminded of the occasion almost a year ago when she'd seen Hook emerge from the house with Tinker Bell at his heels. The white hot pang of jealousy she'd felt then had been stronger than any she'd ever felt before, and he'd noticed it, of course. _Open book_. Worse, he'd done his best to fuel her jealousy by hinting that he and the pretty fairy had engaged in some indecent activities. _Bastard_, she'd thought back then. Now she knew better – it had been more a question of desperate matters and desperate measures to him; he had simply been trying to lure her out of her rabbit hole by hinting that he might be interested in another woman. She shook her head at herself mentally; oh, all the unnecessary obstacles she'd forced upon them!

A few people nodded to them, and Emma smiled back and returned their good-mornings. Nobody seemed to find anything scandalous at the sight of the Savior and the pirate together, and somehow that made her feel even better. Not that she'd have cared if anybody had thrown them an askew look; she wasn't ashamed of the choice she'd made.

"So, what are your plans for today?" Hook asked nonchalantly while they were walking in the direction of her car, side by side as they'd been doing for ages now.

"First of all, a change of clothes," she replied. "I need to wash out the dust of the Enchanted Forest." He chuckled, and she went on; "Then I'll maybe rest a bit..." A wicked smirk curved his lips, and she slapped his arm with the back of her hand before he could come up with a lewd reply. "Shut up, pirate," she snapped and continued firmly; "Then, I'll check on Henry and talk to Regina. And I have to go to the office, of course, to catch up. I guess I'm still the sheriff."

"Busy day ahead then," he commented dryly without saying what he actually wanted to: _and when will we meet again?_

Emma noticed his hesitation to let her go and smiled to herself, then up at him. Sometimes he was an open book to her, too. "Come by later?" she asked almost casually. "When I'm done with work we can have dinner."

Hook's face lit up and he tilted his head a little more than usual in a pleased bow, lips twitching into his little smirk. "That would be a pleasure, Your Highness," he commented, trying to keep the teasing tone to his voice to mask his elation a little. He added quickly, "If you ask so nicely." He had his pirate reputation to defend, after all, and wasn't supposed to get all giddy over the mere fact that a lass had suggested to share a meal with him.

Emma laughed and rolled her eyes. "Good." She then surprised him by pressing a quick kiss on his lips before getting behind the helm of that ridiculously tiny metal vessel of hers and driving off. The dreaded, cutthroat pirate captain stood there by the curb for three full minutes with a stupid grin on his face, his ocean blue eyes staring dreamily in the direction where his Swan had disappeared.

When Emma finally got home, the apartment was quiet – about which she was relieved. She still felt that her whole body, heart and soul were in an uproar, all muscles aching, sore in all the right places, and all nerves throbbing and humming from the physical and emotional exhaustion. Although it was a cliché she would've rolled her eyes at not too long ago, she had the weirdest feeling that her feet weren't even touching the ground when she walked. But she wouldn't analyze it; she just wanted to revel in it, to let these precious stolen moments with Hook… _Killian_ soak into her skin and settle around her heart. But only for a moment; she surely didn't want her parents to witness her floating around with that silly grin on her face that refused to be suppressed.

Somehow, she was still way too keyed up to go to sleep although she knew she really needed to get some rest. She decided that hot cocoa might be just the right thing to calm her down, so she prepared herself a mug complete with whipped cream and sprinkled with an absurd amount of cinnamon before surrendering to the kitchen table, still clad in her dusty jeans. With a sigh, she sat down, but instead of drinking, she just stared dreamily at the wall without actually seeing it; all she saw were blue eyes beneath twitching brows, full lips and an expressive hand dancing before her. Emma sighed almost dreamily and dipped her index finger into the cream. When she sucked it off slowly, suddenly _very_ impure pictures were conjured before her inner eye and she blushed crimson red then grinned to herself.

Just in that most inconvenient moment her mother's voice shook her awake from her reverie. "Look who's found her way home. The lost girl."

Emma closed her eyes for a moment then smiled a little sheepishly at Mary Margaret. "Morning," she murmured. "Sorry if I woke you..."

The other woman shook her head. "No, it's okay. I just fed your brother and put him to sleep again."

_Awkward,_ Emma thought and was desperately searching for what to say. "Ah... where's David... dad?" she stuttered.

"Sheriff's office," Mary Margaret replied, and Emma's eyes must have shown her pang of guilt. Her mother smiled. "It's okay, Emma. After the ordeal you went through everybody understands that you need a little... rest." She grinned sardonically and added with a little singsong in her voice: "Or whatever it was you got last night."

_Double awkward!_ Emma's face felt so hot she thought her skin had to be glowing like a spotlight. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair; alas, the unconscious move reminded her _very_ vividly and with a delicious ache of the passionate night and morning she'd just spent with Hook, making the blush on her cheeks spread across her entire face. Damn! She felt like a stupid lovesick teenager who had to confront to her mother after having done _it_ for the first time, being hit by the dreadful realization that mothers just _knew_. Always.

"Mom... do we need to talk about this?" she asked and drew a deep breath, determined to grab the bull by the horns. "Because it might not be a... one-time thing." She smiled to herself, distracted again for a moment when she thought back to Neverland where she'd declared their heated first kiss exactly that: a _one-time thing_. She wasn't sure if she'd even actually believed that herself back then, but _if_ she had… boy, had she been wrong. She came back to the present when she saw an unreadable expression on her mother's face. "I know you had your problems with..."

"Emma," Mary Margaret interrupted and went to the kitchen counter to pour herself a glass of water. Her daughter fell silent immediately, curious and also a little anxious as to what she had to say. "You know," she went on, facing Emma, "when I met your father for the first time, I thought he was probably the most handsome, but also the most infuriating person in the realm." She waved her hand to underscore her point. "Or _any_ realm."

Emma looked down at her cocoa mug and smiled fondly, remembering the scene she'd been privy to on her and Hook's crazy journey back in time when she'd actually watched her parents fall in love. And, of course, the parallels between her parents' story and her own hit her like a ton of bricks. The most handsome, but also the most infuriating person in the realm? Yep, that had basically been her Captain - _Ah, so you've heard of me - _Hook in a nutshell.

Mary Margaret sat down at the table opposite of Emma. "And when we parted ways after the troll bridge and he told me he'd always find me..." she shrugged. "I already liked him a little better, but I still thought he was nothing but a loudmouth who would surely fail to live up to his promises, just like all the others." Emma's eyes darted up to her mother's again, and she heard Hook's voice in her head: _So, when I win your heart, Emma... and I will win it..._ She hadn't been sure what to think about it then, and more than anything else it had frightened the hell out of her.

Mary Margaret knew nothing about this, of course, but she was assuming that her stubborn, suspicious daughter – with walls higher than hers ever had been – had once felt very similarly about a certainly more than loudmouthed pirate like she had about her prince.

The women shared an almost conspiratorial smile and Mary Margaret shrugged again. "But he never gave up on me," she went on in a serious voice. "He did find me, as he'd promised, and he saved me. Again and again."

Emma smiled and heard Hook's voice again, telling her:_ There's not a day will go by I won't think of you... I came back to save you,_ like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to him, it had been. _Always_."And you saved _him_," she replied.

Mary Margaret nodded and reached out for her daughter's hand to squeeze it. "Emma, when you find someone like that... or when someone like that finds _you_..." She shook her head. "You don't let them go, no matter what."

Emma was both surprised and happy about how her mother took the news, but maybe it wasn't really news to her. If there was anyone who should be an expert when it came to True Love, it would be Snow White, right? _If you love them and they love you, they will always find you. _Suddenly, it all fell into place. She drew a deep breath and squeezed her mother's hand back with a smile. "I have no intention to."

Mary Margaret chuckled. "I had my problems with Hook in the past, yes. He's surely a hard piece of work and no angel." At that point, Emma had to lower her eyes and suppress an all-too-knowing grin. "But neither is any one of us," her mother went on seriously, "and the past is in the past. Things have changed. For me, he will forever be the man who saved your father's life when there was nothing in it for him." She grinned. "And the pirate captain who sent me to steal your father's wedding ring." And then, with a very intense look at Emma: "_And_ the man who brought my child back to me, twice..." – she smiled fondly – "…because he loves her probably as much as I do."

Emma had to blink to hold back her tears; dammit, she'd never been the one to weep easily. She smiled and reached out for her mother's hand again. "Thanks, Mary Margaret. _Mom_." Suddenly, she had to cover a huge yawn, the events of the night and the emotions swirling in her psyche catching up to her all at once. She pushed away her half-emptied mug and rose from her seat. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

Mary Margaret grinned knowingly into her water glass and murmured, "Someone really didn't get much sleep last night..."

"Mom..." Emma moaned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This is really not something I want to discuss with my _mother_."

Mary Margaret raised her hands. "Okay, okay. You're being childish, but... okay."

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head while she went to the stairs. Mary Margaret listened to her footsteps and suddenly felt a little melancholic for a moment, thinking that she and Emma would never have those girls' chats again like they'd done before the first curse had been broken and they'd simply been best friends, not bonded by blood. But that emotion passed very quickly and her heart overflowed with happiness when she realized that Emma's reaction had been just the same as any average daughter's would've been. Yes, they were finally really and truly mother and daughter now.

* * *

I hope nobody is disappointed, but you didn't really think Emma would reciprocate that soon, did you? Or did you expect it? Are you satisfied with her emotional development so far? Your feedback is highly appreciated!

As always, my most heartfelt thanks to my wonderful editor, _**emeraldromance**_, who deserves extra hugs this time. Because she puts in blood, toil, tears and sweat every time.

And of course to my muse _**Silvia** _- sometimes I feel that I spend more time bouncing ideas with her than actually writing them down, but I think the outcome is so worth it. Omicidiale!


	5. You Can Say Boyfriend

A big thank you to all those of you who have..._ been patient. _

So, after an eventful night and following morning of thorough pillaging and plundering, Emma is ready to go back to business as usual and be the sheriff again. Let's see how that evolves.

_**Chapter 5:**_

_**You Can Say Boyfriend**_

Emma slept a few hours then got up shortly after noon feeling surprisingly refreshed and relishing the tender happiness which touched a smile to her lips even before her eyes opened. She wasn't used to this; a fragile yet thrilling sort of bliss danced across her conscience and tapped against her heart, making her anxious about breaking the tenuous hold of such a perfect moment. Peeking through her lashes, she felt a slight pang of disappointment at finding herself in her own bed…alone. With a sigh, she stretched her limbs, but grinned again when a few aching muscles protested. After a few minutes of replaying the incredible amorous delights of the past night and that morning in her head, no, _reliving_ them, she threw the sheets back reluctantly and got up. If she had to get out of bed, at least she knew that more delights were to follow, and soon. Already the thought made her insides quiver.

_No_, she corrected herself mentally while she brushed her teeth; the best thing about this new development was that she'd found her True Love, unbelievable as it seemed. In _Killian Jones_, in _Captain Hook_… they were one and the same to her and always would be. When she looked at the man she loved, one persona couldn't be processed without the other; like two sides of the same coin. And she couldn't – wouldn't want to – imagine him any other way. Inseparably interwoven, just as this new found love they shared. In the end, however, he'd done the same for her as she'd done for him: he'd made her truly believe in herself – maybe for the first time – and given her a chance to believe in love again. They were really and truly soul mates. _Mates_. Yes, he would like that. She smiled to herself once more as she heard his voice in her head, pronouncing the old-fashioned word – one of his favorites – in that adorable accent of his.

Despite all his roguishness, at times even ruthlessness, that damn pirate had imperturbably boarded her heart without any trickery and cast anchor there so thoroughly and firmly that it could never be removed again.

After freshening up a little, Emma rummaged through her closet and decided to put on a short skirt, successfully convincing herself that it had nothing to do with her brand new boyfriend but just with the fact that she was fed up with winter. With her black New York heels and a spring in her step she went downstairs, trying not to be noisy, in case her baby brother was sleeping. But obviously, nobody was home.

She spotted a note on the table, written in Mary Margaret's elegant, slightly old-fashioned handwriting: _"I'm taking Neal to his 1 week check-up. Sandwiches for you & your father in the fridge. Love, M."_

Emma smiled fondly. _M_ as in _Mary Margaret_? _Mom_? Ah, how wonderful to finally have one. She grabbed the paper bag from the fridge and left the apartment. While she headed downstairs, she fished out her cell phone from her purse and dialed a number.

"Yes?" a smoky, slightly haughty female voice answered.

"Hi Regina, it's Emma," she said brightly. "Could I speak to Henry, please?"

Her former enemy cleared her throat. "Ah... Henry isn't here right now. He..." She paused, obviously looking for the right words – something that normally wasn't Regina at all. "Robin took Roland to the woods, and they asked Henry if he'd like to come along," she explained a little hastily and added almost reluctantly: "I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's fine, really," Emma replied. "I mean, I haven't known him for a long time, but from what I saw, he seems to be a decent man." She surprised herself by adding: "If you say he's good, that's good enough for me, I guess. I trust you."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything..." Regina tried to play it cool, but Emma knew her well enough to detect the – pleased – surprise in her rich voice, too.

She smiled to herself. "Yeah..."

"So..." Regina pulled herself together again after her minimalistic display of friendliness, "...as I'm not sure when they'll be back, I'll drop by later and..."

"No, that won't be necessary," Emma interrupted quickly and went on in a more serious tone, "Henry might not fully realize it yet, but he missed an entire year with you. He needs to spend more time with you. We'll work out an arrangement, when everything's settled down again, if that's okay with you."

"Of course that's okay with me," Regina replied and added after a little pause: "Henry told me you're not planning to go back to New York anymore?"

Although the other woman couldn't see her, Emma smiled and nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"And is there any chance of you changing your mind... again?" There was only the slightest trace of sarcasm in Regina's voice.

"No, you don't have to worry," Emma assured a little ruefully. "My journey has come to an end. My home is here. So is Henry's."

"Well, in that case..." Regina added a little regal snark to her voice, but again, Emma could tell it didn't have the sharp, bitter edge of past times. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Swan."

She shook her head and grinned. "Thanks, Madam Mayor."

Regina cleared her throat again. "So, I'll have Henry call you when he's back."

"That would be great." Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind, and before she could think it through, the words tumbled from her mouth: "Oh, and Regina... do you think we could maybe resume the... lessons?"

If Regina was surprised, she didn't show it. "It would be irresponsible not to," was her verdict. "We'll talk about that soon."

Emma said her good bye and hung up, asking herself what she had just done and why, while she climbed into her bug. Emma Swan, the greatest skeptic and most reluctant possessor of magic, wanting to understand it and learn its proper use? But then, she admitted to herself, it was only the logical consequence of what Hook had taught her, had _pushed_ her to accept: this was her home, where she belonged and who she was, and she needed to _embrace it. _She smiled to herself again – how many times now? – when she realized that, sooner or later, all her thoughts always reverted back to him.

Five minutes later, she parked in front of the police station and entered the building. David was going through some files and almost jumped when she breezed in. "Emma! I didn't even expect you here today," he exclaimed.

"Well, I'm still the sheriff, I guess," she replied with a touch of uncertainty.

"Of course! I'm just..." He motioned vaguely to the papers on his desk. "Trying to reconnect. It's been a year for me, too."

"I know..." For a moment, grief over the once again lost time flooded Emma's heart, but she pushed it aside with determination. The important thing was that she and Henry were reunited with their family now; they would find their way together. She smiled and waved the paper bag from side to side. "Lunch time!"

David frowned. "You made sandwiches?"

She laughed. "No, mom did." It still felt unusual to say it, but not in an unpleasant way.

He beamed, obviously pleased with her choice of words. They sat down and ate while David filled her in on the current investigations, which were not many, really. Obviously, Storybrooke was a rather peaceful town as long as there wasn't any suspicious magical nonsense going on. Speaking of which...

"So, I still don't know what happened to Zelena," Emma prompted after they finished their lunch. "Did you find anything out yet?"

David shook his head. "It's very mysterious, to say the least." Emma raised a questioning eyebrow, and he went on. "It looks like she committed suicide somehow."

"What do you mean, _somehow_?" Emma asked pointedly. "That sounds suspicious."

"No, well, she did kill herself," David confirmed. "We saw it. We saw the surveillance tape, I mean," he explained.

"But she was locked up, wasn't she? Then how did she do it?" Emma questioned.

"That's the mysterious part," he replied, and they went over to the monitor.

After watching the part of the video where Zelena shattered into pieces a few times, Emma shook her head. "There's something that's not right here." She threw her father a probing stare. "We have to find out what really happened. I have no interest in discovering what other surprises might've been triggered by her death – if she truly is dead."

David frowned. "What do you mean, _if_?"

Emma threw her hands in the air. "I have no idea!" she almost snapped in exasperation. "I'm _still_ new to all this!" She was pacing back and forth. "We have to search the town and the woods, go back to her house. Who knows what else she had in store just waiting for someone to stumble across? The portal was bad enough. I just have a bad gut feeling."

Her father nodded. "I'm just glad you weren't alone," he commented with a meaningful undertone.

That threw her off track a little; she couldn't help but smile to herself. "Yeah," she murmured.

Switching off the monitor, David remarked almost casually, "Hook's alright."

Emma nodded, not really surprised by her father's attitude. She knew his point of view about Hook had started to change gradually quite some time ago, even as far back as Neverland. Still, she was glad that he didn't resent the shift in _her_ relationship with the handsome scoundrel. "Yes, he is."

He threw her a probing sideways glance. "He cares a lot about you."

She turned to face him and smiled. "I know... dad."

David drew a deep breath. He saw his daughter's smile, and was thrilled to see the happiness shining behind it – unlike many times before, when in spite of a smile blooming on her lips, there had always been a faint but unmistakable trace of sadness in her eyes. But this was still Emma Swan, lost girl, with walls higher than those of Jericho. She deserved to keep that happiness within her, and he would do everything he could to make sure she embraced it, even if it did take a one-handed pirate to make her happy. The man wasn't so bad, after all.

"Emma," he began, "I know you have a hard time when it comes to letting people come close to you... especially those you care about." He tilted his head in a way that mirrored Hook's trademark gesture in a startling way. "And I know you do care about him. But..."

She understood what he was doing and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Dad," she interrupted and leaned a little forward, scrutinizing him closely to make sure he didn't miss the meaning of her words. "I'm done running, really. And yes, I do care about him." She drew a deep breath and added almost shyly: "_A lot_. And I trust him." She smiled again. "Completely."

David returned her smile and nodded. "I'd never have thought I'd say this, but – so do I." The moment the words had left his mouth, however, he shot his index finger at her like a bullet. "Don't you _ever_ tell the pirate I said that."

Emma grinned. "My lips are sealed," she promised and winked. "However, you're not good at hiding it anyway." David huffed theatrically, and she nudged him playfully. "Looks like you're... _mates_ now?"

He shrugged grumpily. "Well, given the latest... events, it would certainly make things easier, wouldn't it?"

"I'd say so," Emma agreed.

For the better part of the afternoon, they tossed around theories on what had actually happened in Zelena's cell, puzzling over how she'd managed to kill herself magically since by taking away her pendant Regina had supposedly taken away her magic; had some of it remained? And if she'd still had magic, why hadn't she used it to free herself? Both law enforcers had the gut feeling that the Zelena affair was far from over yet. Calling for a break, David left for a moment to pick up some really good coffee at Granny's – as the coffee machine in the sheriff's office had seen better days. Emma sighed and rewatched the tape for about the fiftieth time that day, or so it seemed to her, but for the life of her she couldn't detect anything new and leaned back in her chair with a frustrated huff, switching the monitor off.

"There's something that doesn't match," she threw over her shoulder without looking when she heard the door open, "but I can't figure out what it is."

"Match what?" came the prompt reply, and her head flipped around at the sound of the voice.

"Hook!" she exclaimed in surprise when she saw the man in black standing in the door – devastatingly handsome, as always, twinkling eyes, smiling broadly, his left arm slightly bent at the elbow in his typical posture with the shimmering hook nonchalantly resting against his silver belt buckle. Her stomach started to flutter immediately, and somehow that annoyed her. "What are you doing here?" she asked a little defensively as she quickly got to her feet.

She was used to him being her shadow, of course; used to him appearing – sometimes out of the blue – right beside her no matter where or _when_ she might find herself in need. And although she'd always felt a certain undeniable kind of attraction drawing her towards him – she could finally admit it – she'd never felt like _this_ in his presence: all flustered with butterflies invading her stomach, hot lead flowing through her veins, eyes inevitably drawn to his face, his lips… her knees slightly shaky and her palms damp. The sensations were somehow clouding her brain and her judgment, and that was highly confusing because it had never happened to her before. _Ever_. All she had to do was look at him and she could barely suppress the urge to walk up to him, entangle her hands in his unruly hair and pull him in for a deep kiss. Automatically, her fingers curled into fists. _That_ would have to wait. Alas, the thought alone was enough to make her pulse quicken. But she really didn't need this distraction right now. _Wanting_ it was an entirely different notion.

Hook cocked his head and raised his eyebrows teasingly, accompanied by his heart-stopping grin. _Not helping,_ Emma thought in frustration. "Why, isn't there someone pleased to see me?" he drawled with perfectly well-dosed teasing in his voice. Innocent as his statement was, he still managed to make it sound suggestive. That upset her even more, because it wasn't the time or place, no matter how tempting he was – her father could be back any minute.

She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice menacingly. "I'm _at work,_" she pointed out.

He stepped even closer, of course – _welcome to my personal space_, she thought grimly – and lowered his voice, too... somehow, though, his tone didn't sound menacing at all, more like liquid chocolate that she desperately wanted to taste on her tongue. Unconsciously, she licked her lips. _Not helping at all!_ "And I came here to help," he replied and smirked. "What did _you_ think I had in mind, Swan?"

"This is not the place!" Emma hissed. "I'm serious!"

"Here we go!" David's voice announced brightly as he threw the door open, carrying two Styrofoam cups of steaming coffee. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Hook standing there.

Quickly, Emma stepped back again and turned to David; she felt like she'd been caught red-handed doing something wicked, although she hadn't done anything in the least bit debatable – well, maybe in her mind, but her father couldn't possibly know _that_, could he? She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Look who's here. Your new best mate!"

For maybe a second or two, David had the tiniest moment of irrationally wanting to punch Hook hard right in his handsome face – this was solely due to his instinctive knowledge of what had happened the night before between the pirate and his daughter, his _little girl_ after all, even if he had known her only as a grown woman. He saw that she was happy and finally seemed to have found some peace and also love, and he knew that this man was far from perfect, but _just right_ for her. He'd even encouraged her to allow herself that happiness earlier that afternoon, encouraging her to allow Hook to make her happy; but still, knowing they'd been in an intimate situation riled him up – a feeling every father would understand. But it was over as fast as it had come, and he gave the pirate a short, but nevertheless welcoming nod.

Hook raised his eyebrows again, in a clueless way this time, his bright blue eyes dancing to and fro between Emma and David, accompanied by his gesturing hand. "Did I miss something?" he questioned.

David put the coffee down on his desk and shook his head, ignoring Emma's eye roll, and asked: "What's up? Any news?"

Hook scratched behind his ear. "Actually, I was hoping you had some for me," he started. "Thought you could fill me in about the Wicked Witch's death." Emma and David exchanged a glance. Hook tilted his head in a shrug and explained: "I mean, I'd hate to stumble over any other legacy of hers... that portal was bad enough. We should at least check her former lair to make sure she didn't have..." – he waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture – "...anything else in store, shouldn't we?"

Despite her earlier annoyance, Emma suppressed a smile. It still worked; she and Hook, they were thinking alike. David wasn't oblivious to that, either, and turned to her with a grin. "That's a really plausible thought, isn't it, Emma?" he asked, amusement heavily lacing his suggestion.

She rolled her eyes again, at both men this time, and turned to Hook, nodding towards the desk with the monitor. "Come on, I'll show you the tape," she told him gruffly, while David suppressed a laugh and went back to his files with his coffee.

"The... _tape_?" he echoed in a completely clueless voice, and she enjoyed it – like always when that happened – to see her blatantly self-confident pirate getting all insecure about stuff he didn't understand. He was simply... _cute_, for lack of a better word.

She nodded. "Yes. We can watch the exact moment Zelena died." She motioned to the monitor again.

Hook narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Is this some sort of magic like The Dark One's orb?" he asked and tilted his head. "You're getting quite fond of that stuff, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "That's not magic. It's..." she waved her hand impatiently. "…too complicated for now. Here, look at this." She pointed to the camera. "Let's say this is something like a... a technical eye," she tried to explain. "It sort of... conserves what it sees. And then we can watch that..." – she pointed to the monitor again – "...here."

Hook's eyes darted from the monitor to the "technical eye" and back again. Things he didn't understand had always made him nervous. "Bloody hell," he grumbled. "That _is_ magic."

Emma grinned, already pacified. "I see it will be fun to introduce you to modern times," she teased.

Hook threw her a suggestive glance, suddenly all dashing rapscallion again. "Oh, I'm sure you can make it fun, Swan..." his eyes locked with hers, and his wicked tongue darted out quickly, moistening his full bottom lip.

She blushed and slapped his leather-clad shoulder. "Just sit down and watch," she growled.

Obediently, he slumped down on the chair. "Such a commanding attitude," he murmured in an amused voice, raised an eyebrow at her and added with a wolfish grin: "I'll let that pass... _for now_." With the last words, his voice dropped a few notes and his sapphire eyes pierced hers with a quiet, wanton promise that made her blush deepen and her breath quicken.

Emma rolled her eyes and then averted them, cleared her throat and switched the monitor on again, acting deliberately all business-like. Hook let that pass, too; he just secretly grinned to himself, enjoying the happiness flooding through his veins. Of course he'd known for a long time that his Swan had felt the same attraction towards him as he'd felt for her, even if she'd refused to accept it. He'd also known that, moreover, she had feelings for him – of course she hadn't accepted those for a long time either. But now, that she had, it seemed like all dams had been broken, and obviously she wasn't capable of suppressing her feelings around him any longer. And although he hadn't commented on it, of course it hadn't gone unnoticed by his skilled eye that he hadn't seen Emma Swan wear a skirt – a _very short_ skirt – in a very long time. Now suddenly, she was back to that – rather dashing – fashion again? _Coincidence?_ Hook grinned to himself. He'd never believed in coincidence; no, she'd definitely dressed like that because she desired to look extra lovely to his eyes. That elated him incredibly, but of course he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable about it – probably it would take her some time to get used to that, too.

He decided to watch the mocking and said with only mild teasing in his voice: "Alright, show me your magic then, Swan." Her head snapped around to him again, and she shot him adorable green daggers, so he raised his hand in a soothing gesture. "No pun intended," he added.

Emma narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him closely, but she saw that his smile was genuine and sweet, and bare of any lewdness… _this_ time. She relaxed a little and smiled back.

"Okay, look here."

About an hour later, David was still studying old files, trying to get his slightly blurred memory set on that particular part of his life – the part of being a policeman – whereas Hook was still staring at the relatively small monitor, eyes squinted like he was at the helm of his ship, looking directly into the sun. This almost dice-shaped Storybrooke version of The Dark One's magic orb was still very suspicious to him. Although the mysterious device – that seemed so normal and everyday to his Swan and the prince – had shown him the moment of the Wicked Witch's death already a few times, he still couldn't wrap his mind around what actually had happened.

"Once more," he demanded.

Emma huffed. He'd made her replay the damn tape over and over again, and every time she'd bent forward to operate the recorder, he'd used the occasion to touch her – if on purpose or not, she couldn't even tell, but it was highly distracting, and she really didn't need that at work. Every brush of his knuckles on the back of her hand, every turning of his head in her direction, his nose almost touching her cheek, was too much. Let alone his intoxicating scent that filled her nostrils and made her head spin and evoked the almost irrepressible urge to jump the man's bones. This was _ridiculous_! How was any sane, hot-blooded, breathing female supposed to concentrate around him? Especially one that knew exactly what his skin tasted like and how he felt moving inside of her? She shoved the remote control into his hand.

"Just hit rewind, for heaven's sake!" she snapped.

"Hit?" he echoed with a frown. "But Swan, didn't you say this device is to be handled very delicately, like a woman's..."

"Dammit, Hook!" she interrupted and threw her hands up in exasperation. "You can navigate a freaking _ship_, you'll be able to handle this!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why are you so upset, love?" he asked innocently. Then, he suddenly realized with his infallible instinct what was really bothering her and couldn't help but smirk. "I'm making you_ nervous!_" he told her outright. It definitely wasn't a question.

"No, you're not!" she contradicted hotly, absolutely betraying herself with her insistence. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in complete mockery, like he was saying _really?!_ Emma tried to save face and added a little haughtily: "Please. You've always been following me around, and you _never_ made me nervous." She heard herself say: _Please. You couldn't handle it. _The tone of her voice now was the same as it had been then, and her words were just about as true.

He shook his head. "That was before we..." – he paused and took a moment to run his tongue along the inside of his bottom teeth – "...cast anchor."

"_Hook!_" she hissed sharply and threw a glance over her shoulder to see if her father had noticed anything, but David had his nose sill buried in his files and was doing a convincing job at being oblivious to their conversation.

Hook smirked again. "Besides," he went on in an almost triumphant voice, "We both know I made you nervous from the very first day we met. When you put your hand on my shoulder at the foot of that beanstalk, it was _trembling_." With the last word, his eyebrows twitched in a challenging way. Quickly, he grabbed her hand and held it firmly in his big one, her palm up, and stroked his ringed thumb slowly over the sensitive flesh of her palm. It was an almost casual gesture, but accompanied by a blatantly shameless, burning gaze and an almost obscene roll of his tongue. "Like _this_," he added in his husky voice. It felt like he was touching her directly where she'd started to ache for him. Emma blushed crimson and snatched her hand away.

"Stop that, Hook!" she growled. "My father's here!" She shoved him hard in the shoulder, making him protest.

David looked up from his paperwork just in the right moment to see his daughter's act of violence. "Come on, Emma," he chastised. "He's just trying to help."

Hook grinned but knew it was wiser to shut up now. Emma rolled her eyes and bent a little forward again, invading _his_ personal space now which he noticed with some satisfaction. Ah, playing the innuendo game was _so_ much more fun now that he knew where all those word plays, casual touches and suggestive glances would lead to in the end: a very willing Emma in his bed, squirming in his arms, sighing, gasping, _crying out_ his name.

"And you didn't make me _nervous_," she muttered petulantly under her breath, "you got on my _nerves_. That's not the same thing."

Hook didn't reply; he just tilted his head and played with the remote control in his hand. Flustered, and pissed off because of it, Emma seized it away again and started to press buttons.

"Guys," David interrupted, "I think it's best if we take a break here for today. I don't think we'll find out anything more from the tape. We're stuck."

"I agree, mate," Hook nodded and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "I have the impression I wouldn't notice even if I saw anything."

"Then let's go," David suggested, and both men threw a questioning glance at Emma. She nodded, too, almost relieved to escape this situation that to her was still new and weird; she supposed she would get used to it, but she wasn't there yet.

Five minutes later, the three of them left the sheriff's office. David locked the door and turned to his daughter and her pirate boyfriend. "So, what are you guys up to?" he asked, casually addressing them as a couple. This, of course, didn't go unnoticed by the two. Hook was secretly pleased by the prince's attitude, whereas Emma was basically happy about her parents' final acceptance of the man she loved, but still felt that kind of awkwardness every daughter feels when she watches her first boyfriend interact with her parents. The afternoon spent in the company of the two men when she'd tried to adapt to her new role as a daughter _and_ a lover had only added to that awkwardness. She shoved her hands into the pockets of the short black trench coat she'd chosen for the day.

"Oh, I think we'll just have some dinner over at Granny's..." She cleared her throat and went on: "Would you and Mary Margaret... mom... like to join us?" She threw a quick sideways glance at Hook to see his reaction. If he minded her inviting her parents for company, he didn't show it.

David raised both hands. "Oh, no, not today," he replied. "Mary Margaret had a bad night..." He shrugged. "The joys of parenthood."

For some reason, this remark made Emma feel even more awkward, and she quickly looked away from Hook and down at her feet. "Okay..." she murmured. "Well, then I guess we'll just..." She motioned vaguely towards herself, Hook and the direction where Granny's diner was. Her embarrassment seemed to suddenly rub off on Hook, and he shuffled his feet a little, hoping to get away soon. A faint blush swept over her cheeks and she added a little sheepishly: "I don't know, when..."

"Emma," David interrupted, "it's fine. I'll see you."

"Yeah," she nodded and was relieved to be able to head for her car.

Hook quickly turned on his heel to follow her, but stopped dead in his tracks when he felt David's hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed. _Wonderful_. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder. David gave him a serious, if not warning glance.

"I trust my daughter's safe with you," David remarked quietly. There was no question in his voice, and no rating. In spite of their friendly talk from the previous evening, Hook hadn't been so sure about David's attitude on the fact that, obviously, his daughter had spent the night with the pirate. But it appeared as if the prince wasn't going to lash out at him for that – more than that, he was practically giving him his approval.

Hook nodded. "You have my word," he replied almost solemnly.

"Good."

And with that, he turned around and walked over to his own car. Hook grinned to himself. Emma's father hadn't even thrown him so much as a menacing glance before accepting the word of a _pirate_ for good. Damn that prince, he wasn't such a twit after all.

"Are you coming or what?" Emma called, sounding a little impatient.

"Oh, I'm definitely envisaging that, love," he muttered under his breath, choosing a more subtle double entendre to preserve sensibilities – after all, they were in a public place, and he did believe in good form, which also meant not embarrassing his lady in front of potential eavesdroppers.

When he climbed beside her in the bug – as usual, a little clumsily and reluctantly – she turned to him with a sigh. He looked at her with an expectant little smile that made nothing but her heart flutter, and she asked herself once more what exactly that man was doing to her, what spell he had cast. All embarrassment and uneasiness had vanished as David got into his own car and driven past them with a smile and a wave.

"I'm sorry if I was edgy," she sighed.

Hook smiled with only the smallest tease. "Not at all, love," he replied, waving his hand through the air as if he was tenderly following the curve of a woman's body. "Let me assure you that you've the softest contours of any..."

Emma tore her eyes away from his meandering hand with some effort and couldn't help but smirk. "Hook," she interrupted softly, and he fell silent when he saw her shining green eyes look directly into his and noticed that her demeanor had switched back from tense to normal.

He raised his left arm and smoothed out her hair with his hook, stroking it behind her shoulder. "What?" he asked with tenderness in his eyes.

"This is all new for me," she told him, and he didn't inquire what she meant because he understood exactly. He just tilted his head a little to indicate that he was listening. "I never was a lover... and a daughter at the same time," she explained and swallowed as she realized once more how fundamentally her life had changed in the past few days. The once lost girl had finally found her home in more ways than one. Hook could read the emotions on her face so clearly it almost hurt because he could relate so much, having been a lost and lonely soul for centuries himself. He resisted the urge to touch her though; he knew she needed to talk first.

"Although I'm a grown woman and a mother myself," she went on with a shrug, "I feel like a schoolgirl who's bringing her boyfriend home to her parents for the first time." She scrutinized him closely, searching for understanding in his eyes, and it didn't surprise her at all to find it there; he of all people had always understood her, after all. _Open book. _Still, she felt a bit ridiculous and smiled sheepishly.

He leaned a little forward and looked at her from under his thick eyebrows in his typical way. "Be careful whom you call a _boy_ here, Swan," he teased slowly with that rich, dark nuance to his voice that was enough to make her toes curl, and the emotionally loaded moment had passed, once more leaving room for light and playful bantering between lovers.

Emma's eyes were drawn to his mouth, like so often, and she smiled and braced the remaining space between them, brushing her lips over his mouth quickly. "It's just a saying," she whispered against his slightly parted lips and added wickedly: "And yes, you do make me nervous. I have the most embarrassing feeling that when my father sees us together, he looks at me and knows _exactly_ what I'm thinking..."

He raised his hand and traced his thumb almost casually along her jaw, lingering on her chin for a moment. "And just what exactly is it you're thinking, love?" he murmured.

She leaned back with a cheeky grin, so wonderfully playful and carefree that it pleased him more than anything else, and started the engine, her sparkling green eyes fixed on the street before them. "And wouldn't you like to know," she replied.

About ten minutes later, they'd settled down in a niche at Granny's, facing each other, the table between them. Nobody had taken special notice of them entering and taking their place, and again it amazed Emma how much people were already used to seeing them together. Ruby was the only one who'd thrown a suggestive _you-go-girl-_smile and a wink their way when she'd taken their orders. She started to wonder if they'd already been considered a couple before they even were one. Or had they already _been_ a couple even before noticing it themselves, minus the lovemaking? At any rate, she suddenly realized that this was something like their first date... nobody else around, no crisis to face. The sole purpose of them sitting here together having dinner was... just being _together_.

Emma stole a glance at Hook's face and saw that he was looking at her with that special, slight Killian-smile that was bare of any mockery or teasing, no matter how playful. Instead, it was filled with silent admiration and an eager but quiet anticipation – not really expecting or demanding anything, just waiting for what she was willing to give. She realized how many times she'd already seen it on his face when he'd been focusing on her, but she'd never fully understood what it meant. It made her feel cherished more than anything else, and she also felt completely at ease with herself and with them sitting here – with their date. _Courting_, she thought and smiled to herself when she remembered how she'd tried to explain modern language to Hook the previous evening – seriously, had that only been about twenty-four hours ago?

"What?" he asked when he noticed her secret smile.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just..."

They were interrupted by Ruby approaching the table with their food. Suddenly, Emma felt like she was starving; they both started to eat but never stopped watching each other. In fact, both enjoyed just watching the other one do normal, everyday things; they hadn't experienced much of that yet.

Suddenly, the ringing of Emma's phone interrupted the quiet atmosphere, and she almost jumped a little and fished for it in her handbag. "Must be Henry," she murmured, and Hook just smiled and waved his hand encouragingly. The magic of telephones was one of the first things he had learned about in this realm – and the endless importance they held. He had to admit, of course, that they did have their appeal. Indeed a quicker and safer way to communicate than sending a pigeon. Someday, he would get one of the mysterious devices, too.

Emma looked at her phone and nodded. It was indeed Henry; Regina had promised to have him call her. She smiled and answered the phone. "Hey, kid!"

"Mom," came the reply, and she automatically smiled when she heard the elation in his voice. Obviously, he'd had a fun day – about time he was starting to have them, she thought. Since the day she'd met him, she'd hardly seen him as a happy, normal kid, doing things normal kids did; she knew that their year in New York didn't really count, and she was aware that maybe the moment she'd told him they would stay in Storybrooke because it was their home was the first moment Henry had started to feel like there was a chance for him to have a normal life. Okay, as normal as life could be with Rumplestiltskin, Snow White and Prince Charming as grandparents and the Evil Queen as second mother – but obviously, this didn't seem to bother him at all. He just wanted to be a kid with a real home, surrounded by friends, family and love, and he couldn't care less if that inner circle included magical creatures, pirates, fairies or sorcerers.

"How was your day?" she asked. "I heard you've been in the woods?"

"Pretty cool," came the answer. "It was fun."

"You getting along with the boy?"

"Roland? Yeah..." Emma could see her son shrug before her inner eye. "He's a bit clingy, but okay. Can I stay here for another few days?"

She smiled, and Hook silently enjoyed watching her facial expression as she talked to her son. "Sure, kid," she replied, "don't worry. We'll... we'll work out an arrangement soon, okay?"

"Cool. Are you home?" the boy asked.

Emma looked down at her plate. "Ah... no," she replied after a short moment of hesitation. "I'm at Granny's."

"Oh." _Damn that kid,_ she could hear the grin in his voice. "Not alone, I hope?"

She threw a quick glance at Hook and licked her lips a little nervously. "No," she answered and hoped Henry would let the subject rest. Although the kid had shown her the evening before that he found it absolutely _cool_ that his mom was dating Captain Hook, it was a little like with David in the afternoon: she had to get used to it.

"Good," he replied simply. "Have fun, mom. Talk to you tomorrow," he quickly said then hung up.

Emma looked down at her phone with a nervous little smile and finally put it away again, just to find Hook's gaze resting on her face when she raised her eyes again. He grinned.

"So," he said, "how's the lad holding up?"

"Henry?" she shrugged. "He never ceases to amaze me. He's doing pretty well, although it's been a bit much lately, even for him." For a moment, her gaze drifted off, a fond glow flowing over her face. "He's a tough guy."

Hook smiled. "Like mother, like son."

She chuckled. "Yeah... well, he's just happy we're staying in Storybrooke."

He nodded. "It's important to him that everything's back to normal."

"As normal as it gets..." she replied with slight irony in her voice. Who knew when the next crisis would happen...

"To him, it is." His hand played with his half-empty beer glass and he tilted his head questioningly. "Does he miss his father?"

That had been unexpected. A shadow flew over Emma's face, but she was also touched that Hook showed that much interest and compassion in Henry – touched, but not really surprised. That was simply so _him_. "Good question..." she replied thoughtfully. "Well, he can hardly miss what he never had; he barely knew Neal." She sighed, like always, when that subject was addressed, feeling a mix of guilt, remorse and shame wash over her; something that would probably never completely go away. She would have to learn to deal with it; maybe she wouldn't have to do it alone. "I think he misses having the chance," she added and shrugged. "David's great, and he has the right age, but... weird as it is, he's _Grandpa_ to him." Hook grinned, and she went on: "Today he went into the forest with Robin and Roland... he seemed to like it."

He'd been listening attentively and nodded. "He'll be alright, Swan," he told her in a soothing tone, "you'll get him through it." His voice was filled with that typical, unfaltering confidence he'd always shown in her. _I have yet to see you fail._ "He's surrounded by good people who love him. And your father is fair good company..." – he smirked and tilted his head – "for a _grandfather_."

Emma scrutinized him closely, thoughtfully. She didn't want to push anything, but then... she'd heard his voice when he'd offered to talk to Henry after Neal had been killed, to help him through it; the kid had enjoyed that. And she knew from their journey back from Neverland on the Jolly Roger that Henry had taken an instinctive liking to Hook. Back then, it had seemed somehow weird to her, but now, she realized, she should have expected it. Henry had always had a talent for seeing through people's facades – to see the best in people – and he'd hardly ever been wrong.

Spontaneously, she asked: "Maybe you...could spend some time with him, too?" She leaned a little forward, searching his gaze, and added: "He'd love that." Hook blinked, looked down at his plate and fidgeted with his fork, acting deliberately nonchalant, but she could clearly see how much her suggestion, her display of trust, really pleased him, and she was happy about that. "He's been asking a lot of questions about Neverland, lately," she went on quickly. "Maybe you could..." She waved her hand and left the sentence hanging unfinished in the air.

There was the bowed head tilt again, and his eyes hiked back up to her face. "Of course I'll gladly assist if I can be of use to the lad..."

"He likes you, Killian," she interrupted with a smile, perfectly aware of what he was doing. "A lot." He nodded and scratched behind his ear, looking down at his plate again. Emma added quietly but clearly: "Like mother, like son..." An adorable, pleased grin flew over his scruffy face; Emma decided it was time to change the subject to lighten the atmosphere. "And what did _you_ do all day today?" she asked. "Before you came to the sheriff's station, that is."

He shook his head. "Not so much... I went to the barn and checked if everything's safe."

Her eyes widened in mild surprise; but then... he'd just been doing what actually had been on _her_ mind the whole day. In a way, he had her back, as always. "Really?"

Hook tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "I've learned I'd always better be looking over my shoulder." He moved his hand dismissively. "But it looks like there's no threat anymore from that side."

Emma smiled. "Always the hero," she commented with benevolent irony.

He frowned and waved her off a little impatiently. "I'm nothing of the sort, love," he contradicted and threw her an almost challenging glance. "Do you really reckon I would have leapt into that time portal if it hadn't been you I was chasing after?"

She scrutinized him closely, boring her green eyes into his blue ones, and nodded slowly. "Actually, yes."

Hook averted his eyes and looked down at his hand that was still playing with the fork, showing that adorable mix of embarrassment and pleasure he always displayed when someone addressed him as being one of the good guys.

"Weren't you always the one to tell me I should stop pretending I'm somebody else?" she reminded him softly.

He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, tilting his head and scratching behind his ear, still avoiding her eyes. "But I _am_ still a pirate," he declared and finally looked at her with a playful grin before he added: "And a scoundrel."

Emma smiled and mentally shook her head. He'd done it again – successfully navigated out of the shoals of being made a hero. Well, she'd travelled a long road herself, from lost girl, jailbird and disillusioned loner to be a mother, a daughter, the Savior and now a lover; to sail the ship from the dark waters of Neverland and a three hundred years' restless and ruthless quest for revenge into being the savior of the day on occasion was probably just as hard, even for a hell of a captain like the one sitting opposite her. It dawned on her that Hook, much like herself, had his own amount of embracing new sides of himself to do. Letting go of something that has defined you for the best part of your life – and his life had been _long_ – wasn't easy. She made a secret vow to help him through that, just as he'd helped her to accept who _she_ really was and where she belonged. Still, that didn't mean he had to let go of the scoundrel side completely.

"Yeah... and I'm glad about that," she told him. His inquiring eyebrow shot up, and Princess Leia just couldn't resist adding with a smile: "I need more scoundrels in my life."

Hook's jaw dropped. "_More?!_" he replied sharply. "What in blazes is that supposed to mean?"

She laughed. "It's just a saying, don't worry." She raised her hands in a soothing gesture. "One day you'll understand."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You should know that I don't share well," he growled.

She leaned a little forward. "Just to be clear – I don't share _at all_."

That display of possessiveness obviously pacified him immediately, because he visibly relaxed again and flashed one of his heart-stopping grins her way, showing off his perfect teeth. "You have nothing to fear, Swan," he drawled.

"Good." She felt a flirtatious smile curve her lips; a little unfamiliar yet, but nevertheless it was a wonderful feeling. "Anyway, my point was – I like the pirate part in you."

Suddenly, their stares locked, and electricity filled the air between them. It took Emma by surprise how quickly the atmosphere had changed; almost out of the blue, it was thickly filled with sexual tension that had risen to the open after it'd been bubbling underneath the surface for the whole afternoon. Hook's hand was resting on the table beside his plate, and the restless way his ringed fingers kept moving and fidgeting all the time subtly changed as he started to rub the tips of his thumb and middle finger together in a slow, circular motion – highly distracting. Now he leaned forward, tilted his head slightly, and Emma thought: _do it already!_

And there it was, the infamous, suggestive twitch of his eyebrows when he replied in a very low voice: "You like a part of _this_ pirate..." – she just _knew_ he was up to something wicked when he popped the 't', and she was right, because he added: "... _in_ _you_."

Emma continued to stare at him, her mouth literally hanging open, while a bolt of lightning shot through her chest right through her whole body and hit her directly where it hurt. She swallowed twice; the temperature seemed to have risen quite a few degrees, and her throat was bone dry. Other parts of her were anything _but_. "Indeed, I do," she managed in a breathless voice.

Hook shifted on his bench and shuffled his feet, and she just _knew_ he was spreading his legs under the table. When she thought about the most likely reason for that, her inner walls clenched. His illegally gorgeous mouth curved into a predatory grin, and he pushed his plate aside with his hook. "I think I'm done with this," he said in a hoarse voice, without taking his eyes off of hers. "Care for... dessert?" He rolled his tongue through his mouth, its tip just so visible behind his teeth, and added: "Upstairs?"

Instead of answering him, Emma raised her right hand and waved hectically in the direction of the counter. "Ruby," she called, suddenly a little short of breath, "bill." Then she shook her head to bring herself back to reality again, turned around and saw Ruby approaching already. "Please," she added a little sheepishly.

When she looked at Hook again, she saw that his grin had turned into the lewdest version she'd ever seen grace his face. A wave of heat washed over her.

Ruby threw them an amused glance when she brought the bill and wished them a pointed _"good night" _with a twinkle in her eyes worthy of any wolf. Hook, however, didn't seem to notice because he barely paid attention to anything – or anybody – else than Emma. He was completely fascinated by her face and body language: the way she carelessly, _hastily_ stuffed her purse back into her satchel; the restless way her eyes were darting from Ruby to her own hands, to his face and to the depths of the room; and when Ruby had finally turned around and walked away, the impatient way she slid to the edge of the bench to get out from their nook. He felt the same way, of course. He couldn't wait to escape this room full of observers to the privacy of his own room, where he longed to finally pull her into his arms, entangle his hand in her hair, bury his face in her neck, bury _himself_ in her. Only an attentive onlooker, however, would have noticed anything about that hormonal inner uproar, as it was betrayed only by the subtle change in the way his fingers played and fidgeted on the table and by the increasing frequency of his tongue darting out and moistening his lips.

His Swan, on the other hand – she looked as tense as a bowstring ready to snap any moment, and she wasn't good at hiding it. He smiled to himself when she threw him an urging _"what are you waiting for?"_ look because he hadn't moved yet, whereas she was already on her feet, impatiently tapping on the floor with one of her dangerous looking shoes. Hook knew that _he_ was the cause for her adorable impatience, and that knowledge was almost too much to handle.

Without any further delay, he got up from the bench, definitely relieved to be able to hide his own _impatience_ behind his coat. He waited for the tiniest moment, leaving it up to her which way she would take: the inconspicuous one through the front door, only to sneak back in again through the side entrance, or the direct route through the back exit, leading to the guest rooms, risking that someone might notice it and put two and two together. He secretly hoped for the second option, although he almost didn't dare to.

Emma didn't hesitate for one second before she turned on her heels and headed straight for the back exit, not even bothering to put on her black trench, only after throwing him another impatient glance. He smiled to himself, absolutely thrilled that she didn't show any sign whatsoever of feeling uncomfortable about being seen with him; a small part of him had been afraid she might. He followed after her, perhaps giving away a bit of his own impatience after all.

* * *

_**Credits: **_

as usual, my biggest thank you goes to my wonderful and irreplaceable editor **_emeraldromance_**; I'm embarrassed to claim this work as my own when I think of the many wonderful linguistic nuances and gems she has added to it, as usual. I'm sorry, darling, but I'll never let you off the hook.

And, as every writer knows, it's so very valuable and important to toy with ideas and get honest feedback and maybe a little push when you seem stuck - and that's for what I can always count on my muse. Grazie_** Silvia!**_


	6. Lots Of Little Hugs

First of all - thank you to those who were so patient and still stayed with me... this was a really long chapter, and well, I prefer quality over rushing things, and so does my wonderful editor. So, let's see where we left.

After a slightly uncomfortable afternoon at the sheriff's station spent with David, Emma dn hook have returned to Granny's for dinner that quickly ended when the Captain suggested they have their dessert _upstairs_.

_**Chapter 6:**_

_**Lots Of Little Hugs**_

When Emma saw that Hook was finally following her, she left the diner through its back entrance and turned toward the stairs, blinking to adjust her eyes to the dimly lit corridor. Although she almost felt the urge to run, she walked up the flight of stairs leading to his room with a stubborn sort of deliberateness, slightly annoyed that he hadn't shown really _that_ much impatience and that she, on the other hand, had probably given away far too much. In fact, she felt mortified, thinking she'd almost stuttered when asking Ruby for the bill. Some of her ire faded, though, as she heard his boot heels following her closely up the narrow staircase.

When she reached the door to his room, she turned to face him but didn't meet his eyes, trying to keep her level of anticipation from showing. "Do you have the..."

_...key,_ she wanted to say, but never got to finish her sentence, because the moment she faced him, his hot, demanding lips were already on her mouth, taking her completely by surprise. Out of the blue, she found herself pinned against the wall of the corridor beside the door, wrapped in a tight, breathtaking embrace. _Looks like he isn't that patient after all,_ she thought before literally all her lights went out, and she was just guided by raw, primal instincts. The only sounds that could be heard were their heavy breathing and the dry rustle of his coat's long folds as she grasped its lapels, her purse and coat dangling from her arm, trying to steady herself. Although she was trapped between Hook's strong body and the wall, she still had the strange sensation that she would sink to the floor if she didn't hold herself up somehow.

Clinging to his coat, she returned his feverish kiss with an equal amount of hunger – a hunger she had been suppressing the entire day. This kiss was a role-reversal of their kiss in Neverland; only this time, he was the aggressor, claiming _all _of her, not just her mouth, with fierce determination. His hooked arm went around her waist, the rigid metal pressing on the small of her back, pulling her lower body firmly into his. And now, when he relentlessly ground his hips into hers, she could clearly feel how _not patient_ he really was, and that made her feel even weaker. Her shoulders were pressed against the wall, and his thumb and index finger held both sides of her jaw while the other three fingers were spread over the left side of her throat. It was like he wanted to devour her, and she knew he'd suppressed his desire throughout the day as much as she had.

After what seemed an eternity, he pulled back, gasping for breath, and instinctively her lips followed his, trying to claim him back.

"Swan," he growled low in his throat and ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip, "inside..." Alright, so he wasn't really capable of forming coherent phrases either, good.

As she nodded, his hand let go of her face, and he fished hastily in his pocket for the key. This time, unlike the night before, he managed to unlock the door in record time, his hooked arm still wrapped around her waist. Emma had no intention whatsoever of loosening her grasp on his lapels, and they stumbled more than walked into the room.

Hook felt a little guilty for losing control and shamelessly assailing her outside the privacy of his room where somebody could have seen them; that wasn't exactly the good form he believed in, but he'd been literally overwhelmed by the sight of her walking up the stairs, swaying her hips in that tight, short skirt. Modern day clothes were still a mystery to him; the ladies in this realm tended very much to bundle up to the chin with voluminous scarves and high-necked tops, and he admitted that he did miss seeing a nice saucy corset every once in a while – but they obviously liked to show off their legs and derrières in tight pants and skirts that barely covered them. He surely wasn't complaining about _that_. Still, he didn't want his Swan to think that he normally wasn't able to control himself.

But somehow, she didn't really seem to mind, given by the way she was still hanging onto the lapels of his coat, her face barely inches from his, her eyes glittering with the same lust burning through his veins, pupils dilated and fixed on his mouth and her lips slightly parted. He threw the keys on the chair beside the door and they fell to the floor with a clattering sound. She let her purse and her trench carelessly drop right beside them.

"Swan, I must apologize..." he started, but was abruptly cut off as Emma gave him an unexpected push onto the chest which made him stumble backwards against the door.

"Don't," she whispered breathlessly against his lips before she kissed him again, leaning the whole length of her body into his, her soft contours molding perfectly into his hard ones. If he was already struggling to control his impatience before, _she_ was completely losing control of hers now – greedily devouring him with all she had, her lips, tongue and teeth taking possession of his mouth in a wild and frenzied way that made his head spin. She didn't take the time to undo the clasps of his vest this time, but her fingers felt for the few visible buttons of his shirt and hastily opened them. Her fingertips brushed over his skin like the wings of a butterfly and her nails grazed through his abundant chest hair, causing him to moan against her mouth.

"I missed you," she panted, "I've been wanting to do this all day..." And she almost lunged forward, pressing her burning mouth against his madly throbbing jugular vein, nipping, licking and kissing her way down from his collarbone along his chest where she buried her face for a moment between his pecs, eyes closed, smiling against his skin, and deeply inhaling his intoxicating scent that was particularly intense on that special spot on his sternum, directly above his heart.

"Don't hold back by any means..." he managed in a husky voice while her mouth traveled all the way up again, sucking his right earlobe between her lips, his earring making a clicking sound against her teeth. His head was thrown back in momentary surrender, resting against the wood of the door, and he just allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of his Swan passionately but nonetheless very softly kissing her way back to his mouth along his scruffy jaw. Before she reached his lips again, he felt her hands wander down over the leather front of his vest, but again, she wasn't bothering with the metal clasps – her fingers had another destination.

Hook heard a sharp intake of breath when he felt her fingers pull on the leather laces of his pants and realized that it was he himself who had made that noise. Somehow, this time Emma's instincts seemed to lead her right, because he felt the – once again uncomfortable – restraints of his pants yield as soon as she'd managed to loosen the laces. _Bloody hell,_ he thought,_ the lass is wasting no time._

"I need you, Killian," she breathed against his mouth while her hands were relentlessly tugging at his pants, "I need you to take me..."

The choice of her words and the urge in her voice almost drove him insane, and he knew it was time to take over the lead again. He put his hand and his hook at her hips, grabbing her firmly, and in one swift move turned them both around, like they were dancing some elaborate quadrille, _her_ back pushed against the door now. The sudden move had her gasp in pleased surprise, and while her hands were still fumbling at the slowly descending waist of his pants, her back arched forward automatically.

He ran his hook from her right hip up to her shoulder and touched the cool metal carefully to her face, running it slowly along her jaw line to the tip of her chin, tilting her face up a little. Her green eyes were sparkling with eager anticipation and her lips slightly parted, their corners curved into a sultry smile. He brought his mouth close to hers and brushed his lips just so over hers, barely touching them, and purred: "If the lady insists..."

It was Emma's turn to gasp now as he let the sharp tip of his metal attachment wander down her throat to the first button of her blouse. Her wide-eyed gaze followed, and when the tip of the hook disappeared underneath the fabric, she looked up into his eyes again. She read the question there and nodded, and with a brusque downward move of his hook, he opened the blouse. Surprisingly, the delicate fabric wasn't torn, but every single button sprang away and landed on the wooden floor with a soft clicking sound.

Hook leaned forward to kiss her, not just tease but _really_ kiss her this time, his hand traveling up over her left side, causing her bare skin to break out into goose bumps, cupping the side of her left breast, his thumb stroking over the erect peak through the lacy material of her mysterious bodice. At the same time, his hook went behind her back again, pulling her lower half close into him, grinding his hips into hers, making her feel the amount of his own unmistakable arousal. She started to make incoherent, whimpering sounds deep in her throat.

Keeping his demanding mouth affixed to hers, Hook reached down and slipped the curve of his lethal metal attachment under the hem of her skirt on the right while his fingers did the same on the left. With almost devilish delight at the way her eyes widened, he hiked the garment up until it was crumpled around her hips. He kissed his way from her mouth to the side of her throat while his hand wandered upward along the inside of her thigh. His searching fingers couldn't wait to reach the edge of her hosiery where they would touch her creamy flesh... but somehow, that point didn't come, and he thought _damn, these stockings are really high!_ Then, suddenly, he heard Emma sigh when his hand reached the place where her thighs were joined – and where he should have felt silk and lace covering her most intimate spot. But all he felt was the elastic material of those damned stockings or pants, or whatever they were.

Hook froze in mid-movement. "What in blazes is this?" he growled, and Emma couldn't help but chuckle softly, despite her hot and bothered state.

"It's called pantyhose," she whispered a little breathlessly, "it is..."

"It _was_," he replied almost gruffly, and the irritating layer of fabric was gone with a tearing sound, not standing a chance against his strong fingers paired with the sharp tip of the hook. As a reaction, Emma drew in a sharp breath and let out a shaky sigh.

Finally, his searching fingers landed on soft, warm flesh and furthermore on lace-trimmed silk. He noticed with a bit of admiration that the sheer material was damp already, the rich evidence of her arousal seeping through; her most intimate spot emanating an incredible heat. In a possessive gesture, he cupped her pubic mound firmly with the entire palm of his hand, putting the sweetest pressure on her core where she ached for him the most, grazing his ringed thumb over the delicate skin of her groin. She whimpered and the sound was like lightning to his own lust. "Oh, Emma," he rasped into her ear, "so ready for me..."

She arched her back even more, pushing against his warm hand in an almost desperate attempt to intensify the contact. "I've been ready all day," she panted, "please... don't make me wait..."

Almost as if they had a will of their own, her legs spread wider and her hips rolled against his, and there was no other way to get rid of the last barrier between their bodies than to use his hook again. Her panties surrendered with only the barest protest, tearing like tissue paper as he ripped them apart; this time, a moan that came from deep within her chest rewarded him. His own pants had – with her help – descended low enough by now to release his own aching flesh, and there was no point in waiting any longer. The hook reached for Emma's right leg and lifted it up, placing it firmly around his waist. She surprised him by eagerly wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and literally jumping him, enclosing his middle with her other leg, too, so that she was completely hanging onto his body now, steadied only by the wood of the door at her back and his strong arms encircling her tightly with his hand and hook supporting her derriere. Her face was flushed with her arousal and carried a wonderful carefree, happy and ecstatic smile that simply made him soar. The sudden weight made him stumble a little, but the door backed her up, and out of nowhere, a thought flew through his mind:_ I've carried rum barrels heavier than you..._

The hot, impatient tip of his erection found her slick entrance easily, but he invaded her achingly slowly… thoroughly, inch by inch, reveling in her moans, until he felt her fingers pull his hair almost painfully. "I said don't make me wait," she breathed into his ear; "enough with the teasing."

He focused on her face and saw so much hunger, passion and, yes, _love_ there – and part of him still couldn't believe that this was all for _him_, and _only_ for him. Suddenly, he understood that he hadn't spent the last three hundred years seeking his vengeance; he'd spent them waiting for this woman. And to hold her in his arms now, close to his heart and body and soul, to see all the adoration and devotion she reciprocated, made every single year of the restlessness, loneliness and pain worth it. Not one moment had been wasted – they'd all been destined to lead him exactly where he was now, and everything had fallen into place.

"Killian?" Emma inquired softly, breathlessly, and he realized that he had completely stopped moving.

He smiled and nodded. "No teasing," he replied hoarsely and with one sharp, forceful push of his hips buried himself deeply inside her. Her eyes widened and she gasped, entangling her fingers even more in his hair, while he finally started to move steadily and fast, in and out, pinning her firmer to the door with each thrust. She had her ankles crossed behind his back and used her own muscles to adjust to his rhythm, pushing forward every time he did, seeking to intensify the contact with every move. Their pace was wild and frenzied now, their gasps grew louder, and she let out a little cry every time he pushed into her.

Her head was light and dizzy, and it felt almost like she was drunk, like the room was spinning around and around. Of course, the fact that her feet didn't touch the ground added to that incredible elated feeling. She faintly noticed the hard wood of the door pressing into her back, but it didn't bother her at all. The dominating feeling was the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss she hadn't experienced before in her life, until Killian Jones had made love to her for the first time the previous night – and that was _exactly_ what he was doing now. In spite of the fact that they were both almost fully clothed – hell, he was even still wearing his _coat!_ – , in spite of the fact that he'd torn her pantyhose to pieces and ripped off her underwear and had pinned her heatedly and forcefully against a door, relentlessly pounding into her... in spite of all that, they were really and truly _making love_. She closed her eyes and once more surrendered completely to the sensation.

When Hook felt her starting to tremble around him, he lunged forward and brought his mouth onto hers, muffling her cry with a deep kiss, before his body went all rigid when he tumbled into his own orgasm.

For a few moments, they stood still as they were, leaned against the door. Emma's arms and legs were still wrapped tightly around him, his arms still carrying her weight, until he felt the strained muscles of his own thighs vibrate in protest. She noticed his slight shifting and disentangled her feet behind his back, slowly bringing them back to the floor again. He steadied himself with his hand against the door, and she held on to his lapels, not so sure of her own legs yet. Finally, he brushed her temple with his lips, reached down and tugged at the hem of her skirt until it slid down again to cover her hips, before he loosely pulled up his pants just enough to render them decent again. The little gesture, unnecessary as it was, was unspeakably endearing, and Emma heard his voice in her head: _I'm always a gentleman..._

Their eyes met and they both grinned in mutual understanding. He used his hook to fidget with her hair and teased: "Well, that was a little unexpected..."

She slapped his shoulder. "Unexpected?!" she exclaimed in fake indignation. "You came at me like a _pirate_!"

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in mockery. "Really, Swan?" he drawled. "You are trying to declare _me_ the miscreant now?"

Emma spread her arms, dramatically showing off her buttonless blouse, then pointed down to her shredded pantyhose. "Well, what do I look like?"

He smirked and motioned his hand at her, rolling his wicked tongue through his mouth. "Well, if you ask me – you look like a wanton wench who has just been thoroughly..."

"Shut up!" she snapped, but her eyes were sparkling with tease. "I look like I fell into the hands of a _pirate!_"

"_Hand_, darling," he corrected and waved his fingers like he was playing a flute, "and hook." He raised said attachment and waved it, too. Then he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the cloak hanger in the corner.

She stepped out of her pumps. "As I said, you'd look for any excuse to use that thing." Under Hook's shameless, appreciative stare she started to peel off the remnants of her pantyhose from her legs.

"Which _thing?_" he asked suggestively, and when she shot him a fiery glance he raised his hook and tilted his head, pulling his puppy face. "This one? My sincere apologies, lass, but may I remind you that you asked for it?" His mouth curved into his trademark grin while he plucked imaginary lint off of the hook's sharp tip. "Some would even say... _begged_."

Hook unbuckled his belt, threw it on the chair and started to unfasten the clasps of his vest, not taking his burning eyes off of her for a second. When he'd undone the last clasp and shrugged the vest off, it reminded Emma very much of the smug posture his past self had assumed in that tavern back in the Enchanted Forest. Her memory misted across her thoughts, seeing Captain Hook rise from the bench, spread his arms, puff out his chest in that damned red vest and push his hips slightly forward. His nonchalant voice rang in her ears: _Come back with me for a nightcap, or shall I find someone else? _The underlying message had been just as clear as if he'd added it out loud: _...but take a good look at what you're missing out on. _That smug bastard. Now he was doing a similar thing – showing off. He was hot as the hinges of hell, and he damn well knew it.

Emma withstood his stare, threw him the best imitation of her well-perfected _I'm-so-done-with-your-shit-_glance and told him: "You're a little too smug for my taste." And with an elegant move of her wrist and wave of her hand, his hook was gone, leaving only the empty leather sheath peeking out of the loose sleeve of his back linen shirt. He gasped in surprise, and with an adorably cheeky little grin she showed him the gleaming metal of the hook that had magically appeared in her own right hand.

"Bloody hell, Swan," he growled, but the amusement in his voice was clearly detectable. "I already told you it's bad form to tamper with a man's hook." He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it sufficient that you already tamper with my..." – quickly, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips – "...other attachment?" He pointedly looked down at his groin, and when her gaze automatically followed his, she saw that his pants, unlaced as they were, didn't look like they would stay up much longer. _Dangerous_. _Promising_. He took a step forward and stretched out his hand. "Now be a good lass and give that back," he demanded.

She grinned and shook her head. "No," she replied almost triumphantly.

Hook was absolutely thrilled by her attitude – not because what she was doing would sure as hell lead up to another amorous game; that was just an additional bonus. But the way she easily and naturally embraced her magic after fighting against it for so long, and now even used it in a playful way to make fun of him, simply blew him off of his feet. He huffed a little. "You're not being very mannerly, love," he told her. "Why are you doing this?"

Emma retreated a step, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Because I _can_."

Oh, she was being _wicked_ now. This was getting better and better by the minute. He scratched behind his ear, sighed in a feigned disapproving way and shook his head, clicking his tongue. "You don't want to challenge me, Swan," he warned.

Her gaze was drawn to his face, and she was fascinated by the dangerous twinkle in his eyes and that dark promise of forbidden delights lurking in the upturned corners of his sinful mouth. She felt a wave of heat wash over her and raised her chin. "Looks like I just did, _pirate._"

She deliberately turned the hook around in both her hands, running her fingertips over the cool metal, almost caressing it. Without being aware of it, Emma licked her lips. She was surprised how heavy the hook was and amazed how smooth its polished surface felt despite its lethal potential, almost like silk; suddenly, she had to swallow a lump in her throat. She'd be damned if that infamous hook didn't remind her of his... _other_ attachment. She blushed at the thought and quickly looked up at Hook again. He was quietly watching her with a devilish, _knowing_ expression. Had he read on her face what she'd been thinking? _Of course. Open book._ She blushed a little more, but smiled.

"If you want it back," she said in a sultry tone, carefully touching her right thumb to the sharp tip of the hook, "you'll have to come and get it."

Hook tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "You were fairly warned." He started to stride towards her.

Emma took a few step backwards, but her little game was ended before it had begun because she didn't get far; she gasped in surprise when the back of her thighs thumped against a rigid edge and quickly looked over her shoulder. The small table beside the door had blocked her. When she turned around again, her pirate's twitching eyebrows and blue eyes were less than a foot away from hers. Her stomach started to flutter again.

"Trapped, are we?" he asked nonchalantly and cocked his head in his typical way. "And now? Are you going to use magic again or do you..." – he paused a moment to roll his tongue through his mouth – "... _yield_?"

"Neither," she replied and grinned. "For now, I just let you win." She handed him the hook, and he took it with a satisfied nod.

"Very prudent move, love," he drawled and put the gleaming metal into its place, twisting it into the right position, and somehow Emma couldn't take her eyes off of his face. When the hook made the sharp clicking sound indicating that it was fixed, he bore his shining eyes into hers again and grinned; it was an almost diabolic, yet infectious grin, accompanied by a fierce gleam in his eyes. She held her breath without being aware of it.

"And now?" she reciprocated his question in a deliberately casual tone, sounding a little breathless nonetheless. "What are you going to do?" Her eyes sparkled with the unspoken challenge.

Hook winked wickedly and leaned a little forward with his head bent to the side, whispering in her ear: "Why, my little siren, I _hooked_ you, and now I'm going to reel you in."

And with that, he suddenly dove down in a swift move and caught her firmly around her thighs, lifting her up. Emma let out a surprised little cry when she lost her balance and was thrown over his shoulder. "_Hook!_ What are you doing?!"

He carried her over to the bed like a sack of potatoes and, _God help him_, Emma _tough-lass_ Swan squealed and giggled along with feigned protest; it was the most wonderful sound he'd heard in centuries, and he happily laughed along with her. They tumbled down on the bed together with him landing atop her, the mattress screeching in protest at the sudden weight.

"You are _incredible_!" she gasped and laughed again.

"Aye, so I've been told," he commented smoothly and smiled down at her, shaking his head with a hint of incredulity before he added: "That's even better than your smile."

"What, that you finally got me where you wanted me?" She ran a playful finger along his scruffy jaw. "In your bed, on my back?"

He shook his head with a serious, quiet little smile. "I meant your laughter. I've never heard it before." For a few seconds, time seemed to stand still as his words hung in the air between them and their meaning sank in. Emma looked completely dumbfounded, taken aback by his sincere display of affection – by his reveling in her _laughter_. And the way he pronounced that word did really funny things to her stomach. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but it seemed like her mind was blank all of a sudden.

Hook noticed, of course; he knew what was up with her. His Swan still had to get used to receiving compliments like that one – stripped bare of any superficial overtones and flippancy – to be loved simply for who she was. Quickly, to lighten the moment, he smirked and added with deliberate lewdness in his voice: "I must say, having you in my bed is a nice additional guerdon." His tongue quickly darted over his bottom lip. "Whether it's on your back or on top of me isn't really of further importance."

Emma looked up at him with a very small, very touched smile and swallowed, entirely aware of the meaning of his words. He was right, _again_; she couldn't remember when she'd laughed out loud for the last time either, especially in such a carefree, child like manner, like nothing in the world mattered but that one, precious moment. And it had taken a sinister, three hundred year-old soul of a pirate to teach her to laugh again. His damn innuendos included.

"It feels wonderful," she murmured.

His eyes twinkled with affection. "To be had in my bed?" he teased. "It would appear so."

She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. He was indeed incredible. When she looked at him again, the earnest expression in his amazing eyes despite his flippant words took her breath away. "The laughter on my lips," she said. "I didn't even remember how good it feels." She paused for a second and added: "You put it back."

Now it was Hook's turn to look dumbfounded; not only had she accepted his compliment – had proven that she indeed could _handle_ it – she had even felt safe enough to return it. He averted his eyes for a moment, smiled his embarrassed little _don't-make-a-fuss-over-it_ smile and tilted his head. "Had I known it was _that_ easy, I'd have carried you up that beanstalk like a sack of flour two years ago."

_Always a joke at hand before it gets too serious, and always a precious little gem in the middle of his flippant talk._ Emma knew she could count on him in every situation. She grabbed him by the front of his unbuttoned shirt and simply demanded: "Kiss me, pirate."

Hook chuckled in his throaty way, absolutely thrilled by her carefree attitude. He combed his hand through her slightly disheveled blonde waves and then did exactly what she asked. The kiss was intoxicating; the mix of passion and tenderness, of the velvety softness of his lips and the demanding, almost _commanding_ urge of his tongue was enough to make her head spin and all her senses tingle.

His heavy chain fell out of the folds of his shirt, the huge silver dagger and the skull landing right between her breasts with a clattering sound. It added to the sensation that sizzled whenever their bare bodies came into contact – skin on skin, limbs entwined, sweat mingling – truly molded into one being so that no one would have been able to tell where one body ended and the other began.

Emma couldn't wait for that sensation, to feel his warm smooth skin under her hands again. She tugged at the hem of his shirt and he grasped her meaning without any further explanation. Very reluctantly, he broke the kiss, sat up for a moment and pulled the shirt over his head. While he was at it, he got rid of his boots, too; the pants he kept on for the moment. She smiled and grasped his broad shoulders, pulling him down again, but Hook rolled over and turned them around in a swift move so that she landed on top of him, her soft hair falling down, enclosing their faces like a silky curtain. She felt his warm hand on her back between her shoulder blades, his fingers playing over the clasp of her bra.

"Teach me how to undo that bodice, love," he demanded and raised his head to nuzzle his face into the nook of her throat, his hooked arm resting lightly at her right hip. "I can't feel any laces," he murmured against her skin, quickly grazing his teeth there.

Emma shivered against him for a moment and grinned. "Oh, you're gonna like this," she predicted and reached with her right hand behind her back, putting it on his. "It's fastened with very tiny hooks..."

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Why, a bodice to my liking," he commented and fidgeted with the clasp.

She rolled her eyes at him and warned: "I'm just afraid it might be a little difficult to undo it with only one..."

With a little snap, the three tiny hooks were released, and her breasts fell forward to rest on his chest, bringing with them the shoulder straps of the garment. She stared at him with an open-mouthed expression while he smirked, hooked his hook into one of the loosened straps and pulled the bra slowly away until they were completely skin to skin, her sensitive peaks tickled softly by his chest hair. "You were saying?" he purred.

Emma's eyes, still incredulous, followed his gleaming hook from which her white lacy bra was now dangling until he let it drop to the floor. She looked back at him. "Really?!"

He took a strand of her hair and let it run through his ringed fingers. His eyebrows twitched with teasing when he tilted his head in a shrug and just said: "_Pirate._" Of course, he popped the 't'. She rolled her eyes again, and he added: "Doing away with shackles and bodices are two of the most indispensable qualities required for a pirate's life, love." The teasing sparkle in his eyes was challenging her.

"Funny," she replied a little grumpily and caught his wrist with her own hand. She had no interest in hearing how many bodices he'd done away with during the past three hundred years and was annoyed at herself for that absurd feeling of jealousy. "Let's see how you manage to handle a zipper." She pulled his caressing hand a bit roughly away from her hair and put it to her waist. Her short skirt had hiked up again around her hips.

Hook frowned. "Come again?" he asked in his clueless voice. She grinned and guided his fingers, and it was no surprise to her that he seemed to figure that one out pretty fast, too. Obviously, that man was a natural. With a triumphant smile, he tugged her skirt down inch by inch, leaving her completely naked now, as her panties lay already shredded on the floor. "Those modern garments do have their benefits," he commented and rolled his tongue through his mouth, "although I don't understand what's wrong with laces."

Emma rolled off of him and laughed, placing her right hand on his flat abdomen right below his bellybutton. "Nothing's wrong with laces," she purred and let her fingers sneak down to his already half-unlaced pants. "In fact, they're definitely growing on me." She tugged at the laces, loosening them a little more, wickedly and unnecessarily playing over his crotch in the process; it was already showing signs of life again, which she noticed with satisfaction.

"The laces are _not_ what is growing, love," he replied dryly – which made her chuckle – and, with her help, got rid of the pants rather quickly.

"I can see that," she whispered and put her right hand where he longed to feel it, leaning into him for a long kiss. His hand went into her hair, combing through her long locks like he loved to do, messing them up. He reached out for her with his hooked arm, too; obviously with the intention to pull her on top of him again, but she gently pushed his hook away, brushing her fingers almost tenderly over the metal while doing so. He let it rest against her shoulder and protested faintly when she broke the kiss, lifting his head from the pillow, trying to catch her lips again with his.

"Easy, pirate," Emma chuckled and placed a very gentle bite on his chin which nevertheless had him gasp in surprise. Then she ran her lips across his throat, his scruff grazing her sensitive skin, and lingered for a few moments on his Adam's apple, playfully nipping there. Involuntarily, his fingers tightened their grasp and pressed into her scalp. She smiled against his skin when she felt him swallow hard and continued her journey over the side of his neck until she reached his collarbone. His skin was particularly soft and tender there. She caressed it with the tip of her nose and brushed a kiss on the little notch where his collarbones met. With a rough sigh, actually a quite primal sound, he let his head fall back on the pillow again.

While she buried her face in his chest, deeply inhaling his natural scent mingled with that faint trace of leather she'd come to associate with him, her hand continued to caress him, causing him to groan deeper in his throat. She enjoyed that almost guttural sound and the sensation of his hardness in the palm of her hand, it felt like satin-wrapped steel. The smooth, silky skin was warm, almost feverishly hot, and Emma couldn't get enough of touching it, feeling it, exploring it, _handling it _– something she hadn't had the chance to do so far. Tentatively, she wrapped her fingers closer around him, tightening her hold with determination; Hook's sharp intake of breath and the slight, involuntary upwards twitch of his hips showed her that _he_ wasn't the only one who could play _her_ body like an instrument. She started to move her hand slowly up and down over his whole length.

"Swan..." he murmured, his voice thick with urgency.

"Shhhh," she shushed him, "please, let me." And she kissed her way down his sternum, over his flat stomach, following his treasure trail, that fine line of silky black hair leading down from his bellybutton over his pubic bone to the greater prize.

"God, Emma," he moaned in a hoarse voice and lifted his left arm over his head, hooking the sharp metal over the edge of the headboard to ensure that he wouldn't make any involuntary moves with his dangerous attachment anywhere near her head. His ringed fingers were still entangled in her hair, and his blood was rushing like bumpy seas and breaking billows in his ears while that siren replaced her hand with her soft, hot mouth. He couldn't believe that this was actually happening; that Emma Swan had let her walls down to such a degree that she was initiating probably the most intimate caress a woman could regale a man with. He'd fantasized about this, dreamed of it many a time in the past, but he would never have expected those dreams to come true so soon, so early. This woman, _his_ woman never ceased to amaze him, and she was doing things to him, making him feel things he would never have dared to dream of.

While her unspeakably tender, yet wicked lips closed firmly around him – slowly gliding down and taking him in deeply – her hands unleashed a different type of torturous contradiction; her left hand rested innocently on his forearm, fingertips lightly caressing his skin, but her right hand brazenly cupped his balls, making it nearly impossible for him to stay still. When she started to use her tongue on him in soft, lazy strokes amidst the sucking, nibbling and teasing, he couldn't help but respond to her. His hips seemed to have a will of their own. But it wasn't before he heard the tiny sighs she was making deep in her throat while showering him with her ministrations that he knew he couldn't handle it any longer. She was moving faster now, exercising more pressure on him, and he had the overwhelming urge to feel her, _all_ of her. He tugged at her hair, only slightly at first, then a little firmer until her heavenly mouth finally released him.

She raised her head and almost frowned at him, her green eyes filled with doubt. "What?" she breathed.

He loosened his grasp on her hair and grabbed her shoulder instead, unhooking his hook from the headboard again and putting it to her other shoulder. "Come here, love," he panted in his husky voice, pulling her up to him again. "Kiss me."

Emma followed his pull and glided up along his body, but she was a little confused. Why had he interrupted her? Normally, she didn't care very much about pleasuring a man with her mouth, even if she wasn't disgusted by it either; mostly, when she'd done that in the past, she'd done it because it was simply part of the physical side of a relationship, whether it was a long-term one or just an affair. But this time, she hadn't thought about that at all, she'd just followed her instincts and gone with the flow. She'd done it because _she__'d_ felt the need to do it, because she'd wanted to savor him with _all_ her senses… to _taste_ him. She'd been surprised to find that giving that kind of pleasure could be an utterly sensual experience for her, too, when given to someone she really and truly loved. She'd hoped that feeling had transferred to him, which was why it confused her now that he'd stopped her from going all the way – which she'd definitely planned on doing. Maybe she wasn't as skilled as she'd thought?

But one glance into his unbelievable blue eyes was enough to show her that she didn't have any reasons to worry about that at all. He was looking at her with parted lips and some quiet kind of wonder in his eyes, and they were damn sure veiled with something rich and powerful – desire on the verge to explode. Suddenly, she felt confident again. With a truly bewitching smile, she hooked her right index and middle finger into his heavy silver chain and pulled him up from his prone position, bringing his face close to hers.

"What's wrong, Captain," she whispered seductively. "Can't handle it?"

Hook stared at her with open-mouthed fascination, totally mesmerized by her temptress attitude. She let go of his chain and did that wicked thing with his hook again, running the back of her hand along the metal from the base to its tip, then stroking back from the tip to the base again with her open palm. The gesture was unspeakably sensual; no, more than that – it was a blatantly sexual move. Of course, he couldn't _feel_ anything she was doing to his hook, but it surely felt like she was doing it to his very flesh. _Siren_. But two could play this game, and his dice were always loaded.

He leaned in very closely so their noses were almost touching and purred back, "No, not only can I handle it, but I can even..." he paused for a moment to slowly run his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, "... _master_ it."

Emma's eyes widened a little, the green depths swirling with eager anticipation and the thirst for more. He captured her mouth with his, kissing her with a fervor and urgency that pushed her from her half-sitting position down onto her back. He was leaning on his right elbow now. His left arm reached across her chest and his hook rested briefly on her right shoulder before he ran it slowly over her right breast, teasing its peak with the cold metal. A soft gasp escaped her; her back arched automatically and her nipple immediately responded to the touch in the most exquisite way. Hook grinned against her lips with devilish self-satisfaction.

"So..." he said almost casually, "you're a lass who takes delight in tampering with a man's hook?" He moved said attachment over her left breast, barely touching her skin this time, but nevertheless provoking the exact same reaction plus a sharp intake of breath and another arching of her back. He cocked his head and brought his lips to her ear. "What do you say about a man's hook tampering with _you_?" he purred.

Her mouth suddenly went so dry she could barely speak. "Wouldn't that be bad form?" she breathed.

He chuckled and moved the metal down over her flat stomach, letting it meander from side to side, making contact with her skin only every once in a while. By now, tiny goose pimples blossomed all over her body, telltale signs of her arousal. His tongue darted out and briefly flicked over her earlobe, causing her to moan and toss her head to the right, exposing the side of her throat to him in a silent plea for him to put his mouth there. But obviously, Hook didn't have the slightest intention of doing so.

Instead, he purred into her ear: "You tell me if it's bad or good, love..."

He let the hook crawl from her bellybutton along her hipbone, deliberately not going anywhere near where she ached for him the most. She was squirming now and obviously getting very impatient. If only he would at least _kiss_ her...

"Hook..." she urged; it sounded almost like a plea.

"Aye, that's me," he replied in a smug, amused voice and ran the metal over the inside of her leg; when he approached her center though, he broke the skin contact again and noticed with delight how her thighs parted a little, seeking something… seeking _him._

"Killian, please..." It was little more than a gasp.

"Easy, Swan," he mocked, mirroring her earlier teasing, barely able now though to hold back his own desire. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself for much longer; she had more than fueled his desire before.

Emma's hands grasped the sheet in despair and her back arched again. "Oh God," she moaned, and it sounded almost like a sob. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Of course, she had walked right into that one. He smirked. "Why Swan, just because I _can_..."

She opened her eyes in an attempt to glare at him – which would've been much more impressive had her eyes not been _that_ openly shimmering with pure, primal need. "You!" she panted. "You're such a..."

With a sudden move, Hook rolled on top of her, pushing her legs further open with his knees in an almost rogue-ish, no, _pirate-ish_ demand for access that left no room for objection; not that she'd even thought of denying it to him.

"Enough with the tampering," he declared in a rough voice and shut her mouth with a fierce kiss to which she responded with a little sigh that expressed as much desire as relief, and with her whole body bucking up to finally meet his.

There was no chance to do this slowly or gently, they were both way too heated up by the previous reciprocal teasing; the time for playing was over. With one deep push, he entered her completely, and Emma more than welcomed his invasion. She captured him immediately with her legs, placing her heels at the back of his thighs and running her nails down his back, leaving crimson red marks and urging him to go faster, deeper, like she couldn't get enough of him. And that was exactly it; she just _couldn't_, and she didn't want to. Nothing was keeping her from demanding, from accepting, from _taking_ what she'd been wanting for so long and what he so freely and eagerly offered. And offer he did. With every forceful thrust, he gave her what she craved, and even more. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled his head down to her, holding him still for just one fraction of a second to pierce her eyes into his – just long enough for him to see the unbound lust, joyful abandon and love in her eyes – before she pulled his mouth down to hers for a rough, feverish kiss that muffled both their cries when they tumbled over the edge together.

It seemed to take half an eternity before either of them were able to breathe normally again, let alone move so much as an inch; they just stayed like that for a while, his forehead resting on hers, and both of their eyes closed until they opened them almost simultaneously. Emma realized she had her hands still entangled in Hook's hair and released him with a smile, not without stealing another kiss first, more tenderly this time. Of course, that one was gladly granted, too.

Then he slid out of her and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him in the process. She followed eagerly and curled up at his side, snuggling up as closely as possible, not minding that they were both still covered in sweat, his body hair as damp as her blonde locks; in fact, she loved it. It was their very own thing, and she loved everything about it – especially the smell of them together swirling in the air. For several minutes, neither of them spoke, and they were reveling in the feeling of just being there, together. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since they'd made love for the first time, and yet already it felt like they belonged just like that.

Emma had been almost happily dozing off when Hook asked: "Are you going to stay?"

She frowned, a little confused by his question. Did he still think she was contemplating going back to New York? Didn't he see that she could never leave now, even if she wanted to? Didn't he understand by now what he _meant_ to her? "I thought I made it clear that I'm staying," she replied with slight irritation in her voice. "Henry and I belong here. Storybrooke is our home." She paused for a moment and propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him, anxiously searching for a trace of doubt in his eyes. Maybe she had to make herself more clear to him? She drew a deep breath. "You..." _...are my home._ She really wanted to add it.

"I meant tonight, Swan," he interrupted with a smile so light it mostly just danced in his eyes, barely reaching the corners of his beautiful mouth. He took one of her locks that were splayed out on his chest, and let it play through his fingers. "Are you staying here with me tonight?"

For a second, she felt like an idiot. Of course he didn't doubt her. He knew she loved him, even if she hadn't said it aloud yet. So maybe she'd been clear enough, but still... she returned his smile. "If you'll have me?" she replied almost a little shyly, putting an unmistakable question mark at the end.

He looked up at her incredulously, his mouth gaping open, understanding dawning from what her words, her tone, really meant and how big of a step she'd taken here again. She could have easily said _"of course I'm staying"_, because that was obviously what he wanted, but here she was almost _asking_ him to _let_ her stay – she, Emma Swan, lost girl, painfully used to rejection. Hook swallowed twice and had to avert his eyes for a tiny moment, feeling beyond touched by that further display of vulnerability and trust at the same time. When he looked back into her eyes, the open, loving and trustful expression he found there simply blew him away. She knew he wouldn't reject her, but at the same time she was telling him that he mattered, too – _don't hurt me,_ her eyes said, _I know you never would, but you should know you could._

And again, Hook didn't want the moment to get too emotionally loaded and decided to play it light before she might start feeling uncomfortable. He tugged playfully at the strand of her that was still laced between his fingers and pursed his lips into a grin.

"Oh, I shall gladly _have_ you over and over, love," he purred, "as many ways and times you want, but I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward situation with your parents. They might assume you..." – he touched his ringed index finger briefly to her nose – "... and I..."

Emma smiled and shook her head, perfectly aware of what he was doing, but playing along. "Oh, I'm sure they do, they are not stupid," she replied with a shrug. "But you saw David today. Not only didn't he use his gun on you, he practically acted like he was your wing man." She rolled her eyes when she remembered how her father had acted around her and her presumable pirate boyfriend that afternoon.

Hook chuckled. "Yes, I think I might be winning him over, indeed," he commented with a touch of self-satisfaction in his deep voice, then he tilted his head a little. "Alas... I'm not so sure yet about your mother."

Emma recalled the talk she'd had with Mary Margaret that morning. Her mother had surprised even her, but she decided to keep it to herself a little longer that the fierce Snow White had more than just made her peace with her daughter's unorthodox choice. "Don't worry about her," she told him. "You saw how she treated my father in the beginning." She grinned fondly and playfully nudged him. "The louder she barks at you, the more she likes you."

He smirked. "Like mother, like daughter..." he winked and licked his lips.

She rolled her eyes again. "How many times are you planning to use that line?" she growled.

He waved his hand through the air. "Why, it's a compliment, Swan," he pointed out. "I like strong women, and your mother is by God one of the toughest lasses I've ever met."

She tilted her head in disbelief. "You really like her, don't you?" she ascertained incredulously.

"Aye, and even more so since I've been privy to her most impressive bandit ways," he explained with a grin and added: "Thanks to that time portal we fell through."

Her gaze drifted away for a moment when she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that all these events had happened over the past few days. "Actually, _we_ didn't fall through the portal, _I_ did," she said slowly. "You _jumped_." She swallowed when she remembered the feeling of despair and abandon the moment Hook's sleeve had been torn with that awful sound and she'd lost her hold on him and had been sucked into that gaping, swirling hole in the ground of that barn. Fortunately, that terrible feeling had lasted only for a second or so, because she hadn't even properly hit the ground before realizing that she was _not_ alone, that, of course, her ever-present shadow had followed her. She focused on him again and smiled. "Another occasion where you did not let me down."

"Yeah, well..." She was surprised to see that he averted his eyes, but not with his usual expression of embarrassment. There was a shadow flying over his handsome face. "I have a confession to make."

She lifted herself up into a sitting position and turned to him. "What's that?"

Hook propped himself up on his left elbow and raised his hand to her hair, but then he let it sink again without allowing himself to touch it. He wanted to be honest with her, and maybe she wouldn't take this too well; hell, _he himself _didn't take it too well. "If we hadn't fallen through the portal..." he began and paused to lick his lips, but it was a gesture of nervousness this time, "...if none of this had happened and I couldn't have convinced you to stay here instead of going back to New York..." his voice trailed off, his jaw clenched, and he looked away from her again, obviously at a loss for words, and that alone was extraordinary.

She bent forward, searching his gaze. "Killian?" she prompted softly.

Hearing his name from her lips brought him back to the present again. He focused on her, drew a deep breath and said: "I might have given up."

He fell silent and just looked at her, searching her face for a reaction to his words – words that were some sort of abandonment, even if it hadn't actually happened. But the words alone sounded like a betrayal... he just hoped they wouldn't harm her trust in him. But Emma surprised him with a very fragile, very rueful smile and shook her head slowly, but with determination. "No...you wouldn't have," she replied, and the utter conviction in her voice touched him beyond anything. "You wouldn't have given up on me. You never have."

He returned her smile and reached out for her again, this time going all the way to the back of her head, pulling her down for a slow and tender kiss, grateful for her trust in his consistency. She responded eagerly to the kiss, but when he pulled back he was surprised to see her green eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"What is it, love?" he asked with concern in his eyes.

"Do you remember when we said goodbye at the town line of Storybrooke, before Pan's curse came?" she asked.

Hook's jaw tightened again as the memory of the pain he'd tried to hide in that moment – to make it easier for her to leave – stabbed him in the heart with all its nasty force. He was amazed how much it still hurt. "I could never fail to remember that."

Emma nodded gravely. "When you said there wouldn't be a day that you wouldn't think of me... you know what hurt the most?" She looked at him openly, and he was almost shocked by the shadow of utter despair and hopelessness that was showing on her face when she recalled those moments. He didn't make a move or say a word; in fact, he barely breathed. She went on: "Not that I thought I might never see you again, but to know that I wouldn't even be able to _miss_ you... because I wouldn't remember you." Her voice echoed in his head: _you don't have a home until you just miss it..._ It hit him like a ton of bricks that she had _wanted_ to miss him, even back then. That, perhaps unconsciously, she had regarded him as her home, even back then; something he would never have dared to hope, although her almost broken voice when she had replied _"Good."_ could have told him otherwise. She shook her head angrily, a single tear rolling down her cheek now, her hands curling into fists. "That damn curse," she said tonelessly, "was going to take even _that_ from me. Again, there was going to be nothing left but emptiness..." she drew a deep, shaky breath. "Not even the pain... of losing you," she finally added.

Her final words woke him from his momentary paralysis, and he sat bolt upright beside her, reaching out for her with his left arm and pulling her into a close embrace, cupping the back of her head with his hand. She wrapped her arms tightly around his torso, clinging onto him so strongly that he thought she might break his ribs, and by the way her shoulders trembled he could tell she was very close to crying. Nobody had ever asked how it had been for _her_ to say goodbye to everybody except Henry. After he'd brought her back, she'd make such a big fuss over how good her life in New York had been, that in all his frustration about that he'd completely forgotten the desperate look and the tears in her eyes when they'd said goodbye – not even sharing as much as a hug. _Perhaps there's a man that you love in the life that you've lost..._

"I'm here now," he murmured into her hair in a soothing voice, caressing the back of her head. "I'm not going anywhere. _Ever_."

She closed her eyes and buried her face at the side of his neck where it fit so nicely, just letting him hold her and letting the pain and fear subside – simply washed away by his voice and his touch. Another layer of her shell quietly crumbled to pieces while all her agony faded away. "Promise?" she murmured in a thick voice, and she was twelve years old again: another first night in another new foster family, another silent prayer that this time, _this time_ it would be the right place, the right people. She'd come a long way since then, but now she _knew_ that this _was_ the right place. _Home_. She tightened her embrace a little more, holding onto the man who'd saved her in more ways than one.

But Hook loosened his hold on her to place his hand and his hook on her shoulders, pushing her gently away from him so that he could look into her eyes. They were still a little veiled by the pain, but also full of hope. He smiled and put his hand to her cheek, wiping the single tear away with his thumb. _"Promise."_

Emma leaned her face into his palm and just looked at him, marveling for about the hundredth time that out of all the people in all the realms, someone like this man, a pirate and a scoundrel – or, _dashing rapscallion_, as he preferred – could have become her solid rock and safe harbor. She knew there was more to him than that, and she also knew she wanted to find out more, so much more about him… about his earlier life. Not that it really mattered; she loved him for who he was _now_.

He continued to caress her high cheekbone with his thumb and reveled in her expression. Her deep feelings were so open and obvious on her face for him to see that they spoke directly to his heart. _Open book._ She swallowed once, twice. Moistened her lips. Opened her mouth. Blinked. He waited.

"You can take off the hook now," she whispered a little unexpectedly. _I love you,_ translated her eyes. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and she added: "There's no impending danger tonight, and I..." – she smiled – "I'll protect you."

He nodded slowly, with a slight smile. "I reckon I'm safe then." He smoothed out her hair with his hook and then turned a little away from her, putting his hand to the metal, starting to twist it off. But she surprised him by putting her hand on his arm, urging him to stop. He threw her a questioning glance.

"Let me see how you do it," she asked softly. For a second he frowned, not knowing what she was getting at. But the encouraging smile on her face made it dawn on him. She'd seen him and made love to him with and without the hook, but she'd never actually seen him take it off – the very vulnerable moment when he actually dropped that armor had never been her privilege to watch. _I will protect you._ She'd allowed him to see her walls go down, now it was time to reciprocate. She truly wanted all of him. He turned back to her again and tilted his head while making that swaying move with his hand that absolutely classified the minimalistic gesture as a bow.

"As you wish," he replied calmly, and like on earlier occasions when he'd said that to her, she averted her eyes, fixing them on the leather sheath that held his hook. Without hesitating any longer, he twisted the metal off and put it carefully on the nightstand. Then he raised his arm a little and let her look closely at the sheath before he slowly started to unclasp, unlace and undo the fixtures that connected it to his arm. Emma watched his hand intently, and Hook watched her watching him; her expression showed him that indeed she loved and wanted all of him – Hook and Killian Jones – and she didn't seem to differentiate between the two or try to find out where one ended and the other one began. She just accepted and took him exactly as he was.

Finally, he offered his left arm to her. "Here," he told her quietly, and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He nodded with a smile. "Go ahead, Swan. It's all loosened. Just remove it."

She raised both hands to the leather, carefully brushed her fingertips over it and hesitated. "Don't be shy, love," he encouraged with a smile. "There." He put his hand over her right and guided it to the strategically right point of the sheath, "and here." He did the same with her left hand. "It's yours."

Emma drew a deep breath and pulled; she was surprised how easily the sheath came off and handed it to him. He put it on the nightstand beside the hook and turned to her again. Briefly, she let her fingertips wander over the skin of his now exposed left forearm, following the light red pressure marks the rigid leather had left. Beautifully flawed, like the rest of him. She gazed up at his face again, and he tilted his head with a meaningful little grin, slightly spreading his arms. "There you go," he commented, "defenseless."

His intense blue eyes bore into hers, somewhat expectantly, and she thought she could easily drown in them. She raised her chin almost proudly.

"So am I," she replied.

They both fell silent and sat in stillness, just looking at each other and studying one another's face – bare of any mask and truly mirroring the emotions of honesty, trust and above all, love. They were perfectly aware of the deeper meaning of their words; no walls, no armors were left now. They'd both stripped themselves bare of even the latest barrier that, in the past, had been supposed to protect them from being hurt. They were giving each other the grandest of all presents lovers could give: deep and mutual trust.

Emma was the first to break the spell; she slid over to him, put her hands on his shoulders and swung her left leg across him so that she practically came to sit on his lap. Hook put his hand and, after only a second of hesitation, his mutilated wrist to her hips. Her face was a little above his now. She smiled – and it was the sultry, carefree smile again – and bent a little forward, touching her front to his.

"Let's make love until we fall asleep," she demanded with a subtle sort of intensity.

"Make love?" he echoed and slightly tilted his head with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Is that what it's called in this realm?"

Emma shrugged. "Too profane for you?"

Hook pursed his lips in thought and swayed his head. "Not profane at all. Plain and simple." He grinned. "Beautiful." With an almost sudden move, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her body close into his. "Yes, let's – make... _love_." He let the words roll across his tongue like a fine sip of exquisite rum.

With only a slight shifting of her hips she managed to let him glide inside her again and slid her arm closely around his broad shoulders while her other hand cupped the back of his head, her fingers combing through his unruly hair, never getting enough of messing it up. She had her ankles crossed behind his back, and his arms were crossed behind hers; they were smiling at each other and exchanging a lot of kisses in between, their hips gently rocking back and forth into each other. It was very similar to the kisses they'd shared only twenty-four hours ago outside Granny's, only this time they were in a warm bed, naked, and connected in the most intimate way. They moved slowly, almost carefully – like they had all the time in the world.

Oddly enough and unusual for them, they were very quiet, and the only sounds to be heard were their heavy breathing, only interrupted by the occasional sigh, the soft smacking sound of their lips when they kissed and the gentle creaking of the mattress as they swayed back and forth. Time didn't really matter, and when they finally sank onto the pillows, they were both completely spent and exhausted, but neither had never felt more alive before.

The moment her head touched the pillow, Emma felt a leaden, delicious heaviness crawl into her limbs, and at the same time her mind was light and swirling with no particular thought but just a general mist of happiness. Her eyelids seemed to close all by themselves. She curled up like a cat on her left side with an equally exhausted Hook spooning her from behind, his right arm wrapped over her protectively, his hand resting firmly and warmly on her stomach.

Within seconds his deep and steady breathing indicated he was asleep. Emma smiled and took his hand, pulling it up to her chest and holding it there with both of her hands, lacing her fingers through his. She kissed his fingertips, closed her eyes and whispered something into the darkness of the small bedroom – right now also known as her little private heaven – just because she wanted to hear the sound of the words and see how they felt on her lips.

_"I love you."_ She was amazed at how wonderful it sounded and how awesome it felt – awesome and so surprisingly natural.

Behind her back, Hook was staring into the night with wide blue eyes. His full lips curved into the most dazzling smile he'd ever smiled.

* * *

I told you this would be a long one... I really hope I didn't bore you, but would love to hear it from yourselves - reviews, as always, are my butter and bread.

I don't know if to some of you it might seem as this chapter is somewhat of a closure to my story - let me assure you it isn't. Emma hasn't come to the end of her journey yet, and the next crisis - that might or might not be helpful with that - is already lurking around the corner, so if you liked where the story is going, please don't give up on me and stay tuned. Thank you.

_**Acknowledgements:**_

If you like the language and flow of this story - I can't thank my never-tiring wonderful editor _**emeraldromance** _enough for it. I wouldn't dare to publish anything without the tough of her skilled hands.

And this time a very, _very_ special shoutout goes to my muse _**Silvia** _- in fact, the length of this chapter is mostly due to her insisting on _third time's the charm_; and if you enjoyed the steamy as the particularly emotional moments of this chapter: many of both of them sprung from her fantasy she so generously shares with me.


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